Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone Fan Fiction
by Avalain Nightshade
Summary: Belle Skylar is beginning Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She meets Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the twins Draco and Lizzie Malfoy. Things become rather strange, however, while she helps Harry and her other friends with their problems. Along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Belle is also sucked into the puzzling mystery about the Sorcerer's Stone.
1. Chapter 1

"Dear Ms. Skylar,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I read over that letter for the millionth time this week. Although both my parents had been accepted as children, I couldn't help but worry that I wouldn't have been able to go to Hogwarts.

But on my 11th birthday, May 30th, the owl arrived, banishing all worries and giving me the best birthday ever.

Folding the letter in my pocket, I stared with my friends Seamus and Dean at the newest broomstick available—the Nimbus 2000. The handle was glossy, the twigs in the most perfect place and order…

I hadn't ridden anything better than a Cleansweap 7, but that was all right by me. My cousin had a better broom—he'd often let me have a go whenever my parents weren't looking.

I had to resist the urge to laugh as Seamus pressed his nose against the glass, making the window foggy. When I looked away, I saw the back of an enormous giant. Beside him was a small, skinny black-haired boy. I wondered how the two of them possibly had any correlation whatsoever.

It appeared they were heading to Gringotts. Shrugging, I went off in the other direction towards Ollivander's—the thing I had anticipated most since arriving in Diagon Alley. My parents practically had to sprint to catch up with me; my mother's silvery-blonde hair whipping behind her, my dad trotting alongside her, a small smile on his face.

When I entered the shop, my thought was that it was rather cramped and slightly musty. But when Mr. Ollivander appeared, my thoughts were directed elsewhere.

His white hair was tufty, his gray eyes piercing. He gazed at me strangely and immediately slid a box out from its place on the shelves. "Yes, yes, I remember your parents buying their wands as well… Your mother favored an eleven-inch, oak, unicorn-haired wand. Or rather, the wand favored her… Your father," he continued absentmindedly, giving me the wand and leaving me confused about what to do with it. "Well, he chose a ten-inch mahogany wand, dragon-heartstring, and great for defensive magic. Interesting, considering your family…"

"You know of my family?" I asked shrilly.

Mr. Ollivander shook his head and replied in his soft manner, "No."

Leaving me even more confused than before, I stared at him blankly until he smiled and said, "Give it a wave."

I obeyed, and nothing happened. Snatching the wand out from me, he deposited another in my hand, this one with a different feel. Waving the wand, I almost had a heart attack when one of the desk-drawers flew open, making papers fly everywhere.

For another little while we did this until, as Mr. Ollivander murmured, "Nine and three-quarter inches, hazel, phoenix feather…" I felt a warm tingling spread throughout my arm; it felt as if the wand itself were happy.

Delighted, Mr. Ollivander and I finished our purchase, and he kindly asked me, "Oh, and Belle, if you could send in the next boy, that would be lovely. Thank-you."

I nodded, and when I exited the shop, I almost burst straight into that same black-haired boy from earlier. Seeing him from a closer angle, I saw he wore glasses. A nervous look in his eye told me he was ready to either see more, or get out. His bangs were covering something on his forehead—I couldn't tell what. His startling green eyes widened in shock as I almost crashed straight into him.

"Sorry," he mumbled meekly, stepping away.

"No, no, that was my fault!" I exclaimed, picking up the box that contained my wand; I had dropped it in surprise. I smiled at him, and he smiled too for a fleeting second, but then he bent and returned the parcel with my school robes.

"Thanks," I said, smiling at him again. But almost immediately he dropped his gaze.

"Well… see you," he murmured softly.

Confused at his shyness, I responded, "If you're going to Hogwarts, I will."

He smiled a little and walked into the shop.

I gazed after him and wondered what his name was. I hadn't asked.

My mother and father approached me, beaming. I held my wand out and they were elated, perhaps even more so than Mr. Ollivander. But I didn't get another two steps in before someone else collided with me.

It was a blonde girl with gleaming eyes. They were cyan, a light green-blue color. Her blonde hair was streaked with silver almost like my mother's, but not as much so. She stood with her arms crossed, leering at me almost unpleasantly.

She and I sized each other up.

"Hi," she said curtly, acknowledging me with a stiff nod. "I'm Lizzie. What's your name?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could even get a word out, the girl Lizzie interrupted me. "Oops, I ought to be going. I've got some, ah, _business _to attend to."

Without another word, she turned abruptly, her hair whipping my face. She walked haughtily back to a boy who looked strikingly similar to her—a pale-blond boy with gray eyes. He was looking at me until his sister came up, and then he asked her with exasperation, "Honestly, Lizzie, did you do it _again_?"

"Of course I did. I love to see the looks on their faces."

The boy rolled his eyes but said nothing else. He turned to look at who his sister—twin, by the looks of it—teased this time.

I smiled a bit and waved, but he just turned away quickly, as if I wasn't worth his time.

Seeing this, all I could think was, _If that boy isn't in Slytherin, then his sister surely is._

_..._

A couple hours later, I couldn't wait to get going. It was time—_finally_—after eleven years of tiresome waiting.

I was going to Hogwarts.

My parents couldn't arrive by magic on Platform 9¾. I wasn't of age yet, so I couldn't travel by Apparition or anything. Portkey made me sick, and since there were no fireplaces in King's Cross Station, there went the Floo Powder option.

So we were driving painfully slowly to the station.

"Can't you make this thing go faster?" I asked plaintively, bouncing in my seat.

My mother sighed. "No, dearest, we can't. I'm sorry, but these Muggles have horrible traffic."

"How did Dad get his license?"

My dad chuckled uneasily and replied, "See, that's a funny story…"

"Did you Confund the judger for the test?" my mother asked in her dangerous voice.

My dad mumbled something that sounded like, "Maybe."

I laughed as my mother pulled her tight-lipped grimace.

Slowly, we edged towards King's Cross. Five minutes… ten…

Finally, we arrived, and I bolted out of our car and hurriedly grabbed my things. My spell-books, robes, and other supplies were in a trunk, and though I didn't have an animal with me, my parents promised that if I was good this year then they'd buy me an owl.

My dad snatched an unoccupied trolley and pushed it towards me. I tossed my trunk into a sitting position and jogged inside. Again, my parents were stuck with the task of following me even though we were quite early.

Inside King's Cross Station, I waited for my parents impatiently. Ugh, they were so slow!

"Hurry up!" I exclaimed, rushing down the middle of the station, eager to get to the platforms 9&10. They had told me how to get through the wall already, but I wasn't willing to go by myself yet.

Once they finally caught up to me, we proceeded at normal speed to the platforms. I saw a few other people carrying screeching owls or yowling cats; some Muggles were giving them funny looks. For the first and last time, I was glad I didn't have an owl with me.

When we arrived at the wall in between platforms 9&10, my mum and dad each gave me a meaningful look. Behind me I heard, "Always the same, packed with Muggles!" and knew that we were in the right spot.

"Ready?" my mother asked, and I nodded. They gripped my hand tightly and I found myself running towards a solid brick wall… oh, that would hurt…

But I never felt myself crash. I opened my eyes to find a scarlet steam engine in front of me. Over my head was a sign that read, "Platform 9¾."

I grinned and pushed my trolley forward. Just in time, too—a redhead boy came pelting after me, almost knocking me over.

In a dignified manner, he continued apologizing over and over again.

"Dear me, so sorry! Didn't mean for that to happen, I hope you're all right…"

Just then, two redheaded twins emerged from the wall. They breathed in deeply, obviously glad to be returning. Their height and sense of comfort clearly said they were not first-years like me.

"Oh, Perce, you ran into a first-year!" one of them scolded, wagging a finger in their older brother's direction. "Abusing your prefect powers already?"

The eldest brother, "Perce," glared at them. "It was an accident, Fred! And I didn't actually run into her."

Amused, I smiled nervously and said, "It's all right, it happens."

Perce held out his hand and I shook it, him saying, "My name's Percy… these two buffoons are my brothers Fred and George." The two twins addressed me with a cheesy bow, but one of them—Fred, I guessed—was knocked out from his feet by another trolley coming through.

It was that black-haired boy. He looked even more jumpy than I, especially since he had just run over Fred or George, whoever it was. And yet another train wreck occurred when _another _ginger came bursting through the wall.

He crashed into George, who yelled indignantly, "Oi! Ron! That hurt, mate!"

"Sorry, sorry," Ron mumbled, helping his brother up. It was obvious they were all siblings—the red hair and freckles gave me that hint.

We all dodged out of the way when two silvery-blond people—the two twins, the girl Lizzie, anyway—emerged from the wall. It appeared they were arguing.

"You almost pushed me out of the way!" the boy exclaimed furiously. "I would've hit a brick wall!"

"So what?" Lizzie replied, smirking. "It would've been funny! Besides, _I _should've gone in first."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm Daddy's favorite."

"Yeah, well _I'm _the older one!"

"Oh, not that again, you are not!"

"Am too!"

"Please, you just get to do more things with Daddy because you're a _boy!_"

"Then that makes _me _superior to _you!_"

"You sexist Hufflepuff!"

"What did you just call me?!"

They walked straight past me, my parents and the redhead boys, all of us staring at them as they passed. The boy, though, saw me looking at him, and he stopped arguing to stare at me back.

Lizzie must've been surprised that he'd dropped his case, because she huffed and replied, "There, see! You give up!" And she continued on, the boy hesitating for a moment before following her.

I watched as they went; multiple times I saw the boy's head turn slightly, as if wondering if he should look back or not. Once they were out of sight on the train, my parents bent down and gave me a hug.

"Now, we know you might be shy at first," my mother started, "but remember that making friends is always a great thing to do."

"Study hard," my father added. "And do your best."

"I will," I replied, grinning nervously. I was about to leave them for a solid nine or ten months. I wasn't sure if my parents would stick around for Christmas—there had been talk of visiting my brother at his work on studying the pyramids in Egypt.

They helped push my trolley towards the train. It seemed the redheads and the black-haired boy were vacantly following me towards the train.

The train was beautiful. Its compartments with glass doors and red rugs on the floors reminded me of a lounge room.

The redhead twins excused themselves and budged off to find their friends. Percy the prefect went to the front of the train, where he would find his fellow prefects. The black-haired boy found an empty compartment and sat there, seeming a little lost. Ron absentmindedly walked on, looking for a compartment. I figured I'd better do the same.

After a while, though, it became apparent there was no way I'd find anywhere to sit. So I headed back to where I had entered to find the black-haired boy was now sitting with Ron, both of them smiling and talking. _Their _compartment wasn't full, so I figured, what the heck?

Opening the door a bit, I asked, "All right if I sit with you guys?"

They nodded eagerly, the black-haired boy seeming more relaxed than when I'd first met him. I sat next to Ron and asked, "Where will you guys go when we get there?"

"Gryffindor," Ron responded at once. "My whole family's been in there, they'll kill me if I don't make it. Imagine being in Slytherin! Horrible…" He shuddered at the prospect.

I replied, "Well, it doesn't seem all bad."

Ron shook his head in disbelief and asked, "Don't tell me that's where you're going?"

Shrugging, I said, "I don't know. My family has been everywhere—Gryffindor, mainly, but some Ravenclaw, and a few in Hufflepuff. Only one or two have been in Slytherin, I think that was my uncle… by the way, what are your names?"

"Ron Weasley," Ron said, holding out his hand. I shook it and smiled—he seemed like an easygoing guy. Hopefully I'd be able to find out.

"Harry… Harry Potter," the black-haired boy said reluctantly.

Questions exploded inside my head. _Harry Potter?! All this time! No way! How did he… did he really go and live with Muggles? Why was that giant with him in Diagon Alley? Does he actually have the scar?_

I knew, however, that all this must've come as a shock for poor Harry, so I only smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Harry." His expression was relieved; there was no other way to put it. Ron, however, gaped at me.

"Don't you know who he is?! He's _Harry Potter!_"

"Yes, Ron, I know," I responded quietly, "I just figured he'd like to have someone answer him normally for once."

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat and mumbled, "Oh, yeah. Good point."

Just then, a plump witch pushing a trolley full of sweets approached our compartment. She smiled at us and asked, "Anything from the trolley?"

"No, thanks," Ron said unwillingly, a little embarrassed as he held up a few packed sandwiches. "I'm all set."

I bought us three chocolate wands, but before the witch and I had finished our transaction, Harry brought out a handful of gold Galleons and said, "We'll take the lot."

"Whoa!" exclaimed Ron, aghast.

Five minutes later, we were snacking on sweets. I hadn't realized how hungry I'd been—I'd fasted on breakfast and lunch because of nerves. The three of us were quite content and in high spirits, celebrating our enrollment in Hogwarts.

We were laughing, Ron almost choking on a few of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, when our compartment door opened.

My attention was drawn away from my new friends to that same pale-blond boy who had been arguing with his sister Lizzie just a few hours ago. This time, however, instead of being accompanied by his sister, there were two muscly guys flanking him on his left and right.

The boy's gray eyes darted from Ron to me to Harry. They widened a little bit as he said softly, "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

The way Harry looked at him coldly gave me an ominous feeling that he and the pale-blond boy had met before.

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes shooting daggers. The boy didn't seem to care. Instead, he introduced his friends. "Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Ron sniggered into his hand, and I resisted the urge to gasp. Those two muscle-bound beef heads didn't seem too friendly to me.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" sneered Draco, looking Ron up and down. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me that all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Seeing Ron's furious expression, Draco smirked and turned back to Harry.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort—I can help you there."

Draco extended his hand, but Harry didn't take it. I watched warily as Harry said rashly, "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

My hand flew up to my mouth, and it was then Draco Malfoy finally noticed me. His eyes appraised me once, twice, before finally saying, "I don't know your name yet. Who are you?"

Regaining my voice, I responded, "Belle Skylar."

He nodded once and added, "All right. I'm afraid my sadistic sister was bugging you in Diagon Alley earlier today. Sorry about that. But I can offer you the same thing as Potter. What do you say?"

His hand stopped in front of me, and though I didn't immediately want to jump on his offer, I knew better than to make an offending statement the way Harry did. So choosing my words carefully, I said, "First impressions I can make myself once we arrive at Hogwarts… but I won't forget your offer."

I shook his hand once and let go. Draco smiled a little and replied, "Fine with me. Come on," he directed this last to Crabbe and Goyle, "let's go."

The three of us watched as they closed the compartment door and left.

Ron scoffed in disgust, glaring at where they had exited. Then, turning on me, he said, "I can't believe you can actually think about working with a slimy git like that."

"I don't want to make enemies, Ron," I explained. "It's not wise, considering the first day of school hasn't even come yet."

Snorting derisively, he murmured, "What's 'wise…' You'll probably be in Ravenclaw…"

I scowled. I didn't want to be in Ravenclaw.

"Have you met Draco before?" I asked Harry inquisitively.

He nodded and frowned. "I met him in Madame Malkin's while getting my robes. He was talking about being in Slytherin, and something called Quidditch. He acted like he was superior to everyone else."

"That's the Malfoy family for you," Ron muttered darkly. "I've heard of his family. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched—my dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"Innocent until proven guilty," I murmured, shaking my head. Just then, I heard footsteps. "Someone's coming," I said. Then, a girl with bushy brown hair opened our door.

Her brown eyes skimmed our faces before asking in a commanding tone, "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she added, almost as an afterthought.

We all shook our heads at her toad question—_a toad? _I thought. _Who has a toad these days?!_

After responding to Neville's problem, we introduced ourselves. At the mention of Harry's name, Hermione's eyes lit up and she began going off on what you'd call a tangent. Honestly, after a while, I tuned her out until she said, "All right, you'd best change into your robes, I expect we'll be arriving soon."

She turned to leave, but then she stopped and reentered, saying to Ron, "You have dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left.

...

Twenty minutes later, I was following a beaming Harry towards the same giant I saw him with in Diagon Alley. He was shouting, "Firs' years this way! Over here, firs' years!"

Once he was sure that all the first years were together, the giant led us towards a steep and narrow path. Before long, it widened to reveal the great black lake, and up across the lake on a large hill was a castle with gleaming windows and twinkling lights—very tall, very large and _very_ impressive.

Harry, Ron and I walked close to the giant at Harry's insistence. When the giant saw Harry, he let out a smile and a hearty, "'Ello, there, Harry! Who are your friends?"

"Oh, Hagrid, this is Ron Weasley and Belle Skylar," Harry answered happily, acknowledging us in turn.

The giant Hagrid smiled at us and said, "Hope you don't mind getting a little wet. Some of the boats leak, mind…" Then, raising his voice, he shouted, "Four to a boat, please! No more'n four!"

Harry, Ron and I stepped into the same boat and were soon accompanied by a sulky Lizzie Malfoy, who was muttering darkly about, "Stupid brother with his moronic friends… shoving me out… dimwit, I'm his sister… ooh, wait till Father hears about this, he'll be grounded for sure…"

The three of us exchanged looks but said nothing.

We sailed towards the castle, the boats floating along the surface of the water. Like Hagrid said, there was a spout of water along the floor of our boat, but the sight in front of us distracted us from our wet shoes.

The castle loomed steadily larger as we grew closer to it. All of us were at a loss for words—this place would be our home for the next nine months?

I felt a lurch and realized our boats had touched solid ground on the other side of the lake. The water behind us hardly left any ripples.

Lizzie was the first to disembark. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she trudged off, not waiting for anyone else. I watched her go as Harry and Ron exited the boat as well, Ron stumbling with a fair amount of muttering under his breath.

Hagrid was the last to climb out of the boats—he'd taken up one all by himself. But once he was settled and ready to go, he said in his gruff tone, "All right, let's get on up to the castle, then!"

All the first years followed Hagrid except Lizzie, whose outline was barely visible above us. She was close enough for Hagrid to keep an eye on her, though.

The night sky was twinkling with stars, and we watched as the castle appeared in front of us, more astounding and intimidating than ever before. We stopped short as Hagrid held us back and knocked on the large wooden door.

It opened, and a woman with long emerald robes, black hair in a bun, and stern eyes gazed down on us. Her spectacles were perched lowly on her nose, reminding me vaguely of a librarian. She was obviously a professor, but of what I didn't know—all I _did _know about her was to not get on her bad side.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, waving his hand.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall responded. "I will take them from here."

A few nervous looks were exchanged, but before anyone could say a word, she hustled off, leaving us hurrying after her. Across stone floors, under stone archways, passing corridors we went. After a time, I could hear voices, and with a start, I realized that the rest of the school must've already been seated, waiting for the ickle firsties to show.

Based on their expressions, Ron and Harry were thinking the same things.

Professor McGonagall led us into an empty chamber and placed the door ajar. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.

"I will return when we are ready for you," she said, this appearing as a firm note of dismissal. "Please wait quietly."

I shifted anxiously as Harry and Ron began discussing in anguished tones about what the test would be. To my left, I saw Lizzie and Draco, surprisingly not arguing for once. Draco's eye caught mine, and I smiled.

"You should be in Slytherin," he mouthed, and I shrugged, whispering, "Maybe."

Lizzie scoffed, but for once, Draco didn't pay attention to her.

"Like she's Slytherin material," she muttered under her breath, but I didn't care about what she said. I was tuning in to Harry's and Ron's breathless conversation.

"Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking…"

I gulped and said nothing, heavily wishing that Hermione Granger would shut up about all the things she'd learned before coming here.

I gasped and fell into Ron as a few people screamed. Whirling around, I wondered what had upset so many people until I saw them—pale, translucent figures hovering in the air, aghast and shocked to find us here.

_Ghosts, _I thought simply. I couldn't catch the conversation the ghosts had, but I could've sworn I heard the name "Peeves."

_Oh, boy, _I thought next, rolling my eyes. The stories my dad told me about things Peeves had done while he had been at Hogwarts were endless and always resulted in disaster. I sincerely hoped he wouldn't be allowed at the Sorting Ceremony—an image of me attempting to cast a spell appeared. The next moment?

_PLOP! _A bowlful of creamed corn lands on my head, Peeves cackling madly.

Shivering, I shook my head. What _would _we have to do?

"Move along now," Professor McGonagall's recognizable voice rang out from the door again. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin."

The ghosts glided away, waving good-bye to some of the students, seemingly at ease as they passed through the solid stone walls.

"Now, form a line and follow me."

We instantly obeyed, still jumpy and restless from what she told us previously. I stood beside Draco and another boy I hadn't met, but he had a toad in his hands, so I guessed this was Neville.

My legs grew stiff as I walked. I actually stumbled before entering the Great Hall, but luckily recovered myself before I appeared around the corner. Resolving for it not to happen again, I walked into the Great Hall.

My mouth nearly dropped when I entered, but I abstained, realizing how stupid it would've looked if I had. All the same, the Great Hall was one of the loveliest places I'd ever been in. Thousands of candles were bewitched to float delicately above our heads. The ceiling had been enchanted to look like the night sky outside, and older students watched—some giving thumbs-up—as we passed. Their faces flickered in the waning light of the candles, but I knew that any of the teachers simply had to wave their wands and replenish the candles' wax to make the light last longer. Ghosts appraised us from above, and all the people in the Great Hall were craning to get a better view.

But when I looked at where we were walking, I saw an old hat sitting on a wooden stool. The hat was filthy and had a few patches sewn into it, but immediately I knew there was no reason to worry.

I stared at the hat, wondering what it would do—would the teachers simply start putting it on us? But then a rip opened up in the hat, and it began to sing:

_ "__Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see, _

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you _

_Where you ought to be. _

_You might belong in Gryffindor_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind._

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The brim of the hat closed and addressed each of the four tables as the whole Hall burst into ecstatic applause, including me. I'd never heard of a Thinking Cap—much less a Singing Cap—before.

I smiled as Professor McGonagall received a list and announced, "Very well! The Sorting Ceremony has begun!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Abbott, Hannah!" announced Professor McGonagall. I watched as a girl with blonde pigtails ascended the stool, looking exceptionally nervous since she was the first to be sorted out of the year.

The whole Hall grew breathless until the hat shouted, loud and clear, "_Hufflepuff!_"

One of the tables erupted into applause, and Hannah Abbott looked relieved as she skirted past me towards her new table.

"Bones, Susan!" Professor McGonagall rang out this time.

Again, the hat was placed on the girl's head until she also was placed in, "_Hufflepuff!_"

"Boot, Terry!"

"_Ravenclaw!_"

A few others went—Brocklehurst, Mandy, went to Ravenclaw, but Brown, Lavender was Gryffindor's first new recruit. I could see Fred and George waving their arms madly; Percy was telling them off for making fools of themselves.

Bulstrode, Millicent, was the first new Slytherin. I didn't think they looked very nice—most of them were rather large with scowls on their faces and crossed arms. They seemed a little shifty to me…

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"_Hufflepuff!_"

I watched and cheered as my friend Seamus Finnegan stepped nervously up to the stool. He grinned at me, but then gazed upward at his forehead in an attempt to see the hat. I watched with anticipation as Seamus sat there for a minute, the hat mumbling to itself in concentration. And finally…

"_Gryffindor!_"

Seamus looked relieved and gave me a high-five as he passed towards Fred and George Weasley, who were beckoning him madly. Percy wasn't even attempting to restrain their antics any longer.

"Granger, Hermione!"

I squeezed her hand—for she had taken it before the Sorting out of nerves—and said, "Good luck!"

"_Gryffindor!_" shouted the hat; Ron looked rather annoyed. Harry, however, was clapping as Hermione ran off the stool and joined the table with all the other Gryffindors.

More people were sorted. The crowd around me thinned, making me feel quite exposed. I was aware of the fact that the other first-years were beginning to feel less nervous, but I just wanted to get the hat on my head and get it over with.

When I was jarred from these thoughts, I realized Neville was up. Poor Neville fell and tripped up the stairs on his way to the stool, and he was up there for longer than Seamus until the hat screamed, "_Gryffindor!_"

Neville was proven just how forgetful he was when he jogged off the stool, the hat still on his head.

Draco was up next. He glanced at me and I gave him an encouraging smile. I received one in return; the hat barely touched his head before it announced, "_Slytherin!_"

He passed Lizzie, whose real name was Elizabeth, according to Professor McGonagall's, "Malfoy, Elizabeth!"

Lizzie, however, took less time to place than Draco. Instead of two seconds, it took her one before the Hat screamed, "_Slytherin!_"

There were only a few left, and I was seriously anxious. What if I was in a house I didn't want to be in? Not that I had anything against the four founders, but I had a select house in mind.

Moon, Nott, Parkinson, two twin-Patils, Perks, and then I heard Professor McGonagall announce with relish, "Potter, Harry!"

All around us, whispers erupted, and people leaned heads to gossip about if it could be _the _Harry Potter. He gave me and Ron a pleading look, and we both smiled, me nodding, Ron giving him the thumbs-up, whispering, "Oh, go on, Harry!"

I watched as the Sorting Hat was planted on Harry's head. I could hear the Hat whispering in his ear, and once the whispers began to die down, I was able to decipher part of what it was saying, even though no one else could (don't ask…)

"Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh, my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"

Harry seemed to tense, his eyes closed and his jaw set resolutely.

"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here, in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—no? Well, if you're sure—better be _Gryffindor!_"

The last word was a shout, and the Gryffindor table exploded into cheers. It was as if a bomb had just reached the end of its fuse. I applauded Harry and grinned widely at him, which was shakily returned. Throughout all the commotion, I could hear Fred and George Weasley shouting manically, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

It took a long time for poor Professor McGonagall to regain order and silence. During the plight, I was able to see that there were only five of us now—me, Ron, Dean, and two others I didn't know. Once, however, the excitement from Harry's sorting died down, she was able to shout, loud and clear, "Skylar, Belle!"

Shaking, I walked up to the stool. Sitting on it, I could see all Harry's, Ron's, and Draco's nods as the Sorting Hat was placed on my head.

For a moment, all was silence… then, I heard the whispery voice say in my ear, "My goodness… much diversity is here, in your family, isn't there?"

_How does it know my family? _I thought to myself, but my question was answered from a loud laugh by the Hat.

"You cannot hide anything from me, Belle," the Hat whispered. I shivered as it continued, "Yes, very difficult. Almost as difficult as Harry Potter, perhaps just as much so… intelligence is the first thing I see, that is true, but there is ambition inside you. Bravery is valued just as much as your determination, but you aren't afraid to get your hands dirty, are you? No… still… very difficult, very…"

I became aware of the whispers, and I wondered how long I'd been sitting there. I could see Harry's anxious face looking at mine, but I held still while the Hat continued murmuring to itself.

The two minute mark came around, and the Hat asked, "My dear, what would you make of Slytherin?"

I gaped at it and it laughed again. "Surprised by that, eh? Well, of course, I see perfectly now. Your house shall be _Gryffindor!_"

Professor McGonagall removed the hat from my head, and I grinned, relieved that it had not wasted another couple of seconds. I had noticed people beginning to become antsy about my placement, but my welcome was just as hearty as anyone else's—except for Harry's, of course.

Percy was the first shake my hand politely. "Brilliant, we are absolutely delighted to have you here—" but he was cut off by Fred, who seized my hand and began saying, "Belle! Oh, splendid, _splendid _business, having you here! We didn't think you qualified!"

I grew pale at this; Percy elbowed Fred in the ribs—"Ow! I was just joking, Perce!"

I watched as Dean Thomas became another new Gryffindor. Lisa Turpin was a Ravenclaw, and then Ron was declared to be the fifth new Gryffindor male for this year, to much applause from me and Harry and his brothers.

Finally, Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin, and that was the first time I met Draco's eyes since my sorting. I gave him a shaky smile, and he gave me a weak one back, but then silence was called for by Professor McGonagall. The Hall quieted at once.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts rose from his seat. He was an elderly man with a long, silver beard and silver hair to match, wearing robes of scarlet. His nose was crooked, and half-moon spectacles lodged on the end of that nose, much like Professor McGonagall's glasses.

"Welcome!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down, satisfied with his short announcement. I watched him wave his hand, and the crowd of students gasped. When I turned back towards the table, a change had come over it.

Platters, bowls, countless numbers of servings appeared on golden plates that had been empty just seconds before. Roast beef, chicken, potatoes, peas, carrots, mashed potatoes, gravy, ketchup, and so many other comfort foods—I wasn't even sure where to start until Ron, sitting beside me with his mouth full, garbled, "Ma'he potaoes are exllent."

Grinning, I served myself a bit of everything. The candy we had on the Hogwarts Express had all but vanished inside my stomach, for I was ravenous again. Harry and Ron appeared to feel the same way, because they were eating even faster than they had been six hours before.

I listened rather than talked during the feast. Turning towards Seamus, who was across from me, I heard him say, "Nearly Headless? How could you be Nearly Headless?"

I turned and saw a ghost with a ruffled collar standing just behind me. When I got closer, the air became colder around him, which made me think that if you accidentally walked _through _a ghost, it would be like ice on your bare skin. But the ghost looked offended at Seamus's question, and he answered with, "Like this."

He pulled his head off his neck, causing me to gasp and drop my fork. Only a small seam of skin was left on his neck, keeping it attached in its place.

Seeing my shock, the ghost swung his head back on his neck and changed topic.

"So! New Gryffindors—I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable."

He gestured towards the Slytherin table, and I saw a ghost with a pale—even for a ghost—face and a vacant expression. He was hovering over Lizzie and Draco; both of them were glancing up nervously every now and then to make sure they wouldn't suddenly become iced.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Seamus asked.

"I've never asked," the ghost replied.

Eventually, the conversation began turning towards our families at home.

"Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til _after _they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out."

I laughed at Seamus's family's tale, but that was when Ron poked my arm and asked, "What about you, Belle?"

"Me?" I asked, a little panicky. But clearing my throat, I thought, _Well… surely I could just give them limited… information…_

"My dad's a pure-blood, but my mother's a half-blood," I murmured. What I didn't add was just _how_ she was a half-blood, but the boys nodded, satisfied and sleepy with full stomachs, and asked nothing more, for which I was immensely grateful.

I continued listening as others finished their meal. I myself had been full long before, but it seemed that others had made room for seconds and thirds, even. I quickly became drowsy, but I was brought back to the present when Harry slapped his hand to his head and exclaimed, "Ouch!"

Swiveling towards him, I gazed at him and asked, the same time as Percy, "What is it?"

A strange expression came over his face—confused or puzzled—and he responded, "Nothing… nothing, never mind…"

But I noticed that his hand had covered his scar.

Changing the topic strangely, Harry asked Percy, "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"

"Oh, you know Quirrell, then, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to—everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Talk continued for another minute or so before Professor Dumbledore managed to regain silence.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, and I could've sworn he was looking specifically in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

I swallowed uneasily. Before that last, everything had been sounding good, but now, with the whole "dying a painful death" thing, I was confused as to what could possibly be kept in the school that was capable of killing one of us students. That got me wondering—could it kill the teachers if they came across it, too?

But then I shook my head. I was getting paranoid. It was the food.

After singing the school song—of course, Fred and George were singing it to a funeral-like tune, go figure—Dumbledore dismissed us, and I followed Percy out of the Great Hall.

All the other tables were doing the same, the ghosts rising up in the air to go off and do their own thing. Percy made sure all the first years were following him before moving off.

Exiting the Great Hall, I suddenly realized just how tired I was now. Full of food, good times, and contentment, I was ready for some sleep. But I was jolted awake when the Slytherin prefect budged past me, taking care to tread on my foot.

I watched, a little peeved, as they passed, but then I saw the familiar silvery-blond hair. Making sure no one else was watching, I edged over to Draco and, since he didn't notice me there, said, "Hi, Draco."

He started, but gave me an awkward smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Saying hi," I responded.

"Well… why?"

"Because I wanted to!" I exclaimed, crossing my arms.

"Oh. Well, hi."

"Do you not want me here?" I asked, a little offended.

"No!" he said quickly, holding out his hands. "It's just… well, I didn't really expect you to be friendly to me, now that you're in Gryffindor and all."

"Why shouldn't I be nice?"

"Because our houses hate each other?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't care for some petty feud our founders had," I announced haughtily, whipping my hair to emphasize my point. "That was their problem, and so far, we haven't had one."

Draco smiled as his sister—who was behind us—groaned. I could see her rolling her eyes, but I simply rolled my eyes _back, _earning another smile from her brother.

"You think we'll have any classes together?" asked Draco. I shrugged.

"Maybe," I replied hopefully, but before I could say more, Draco pointed across the hall. "Isn't that your prefect, heading up those stairs?"

I turned and saw that he was right. "Thanks!" I yelped, and I bolted off after Percy. Somehow, nobody was curious about my sudden return, and I watched the Slytherins as they proceeded down to where I guessed was the dungeons. Meanwhile, Percy led us up a few marble staircases.

As time wore on, my feet—along with everyone else's, practically—began to drag. More staircases we climbed, sometimes entering a secret passageway behind a portrait or something. While walking, I almost stamped my foot out of frustration, thinking, _I'll never remember all these passages! There are too many of them!_

Beside me, a girl named Parvarti Patil yawned widely, and I was seriously about to ask Percy how much further when he stopped in front of a rather large portrait.

Edging a bit to get a better look, I saw the portrait was of a lady who had, ah… put on some weight, I suppose I could say. She was wearing a pink silk dress and was standing in front of two white pillars, a painted sky and hills behind her. She watched us all with mild interest, but said nothing except, "Password?"

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied importantly, and the portrait swung open from the left side, giving us access to whatever lay ahead.

The room inside was arranged like a living room would've been—a fireplace was along one side of the wall, a few armchairs in front of it, some sofas behind them. There was a scarlet rug gilded with golden threads on the soft floor, and tables were set up on the opposite side of the fireplace for those who needed some extra study time or something. All in all, it was a cozy, comfortable place, and I liked it immediately.

Percy pointed towards a set of spiral stairs that divided into two separate staircases near the top.

"Girls, your dormitories are up the spiral staircase to your right, boys, the same to your left," Percy directed us. "There will be a sign above the door telling you which dormitory you'll be in. Your luggage has already been brought up to your respective dormitories. Go on, get ready!"

We all hustled excitedly to our new rooms and to meet our new roommates.

I nearly collided with Hermione on the way up, and we gave each other smiles as we hurried off. It occurred to me that I hadn't said bye to Harry or Ron, but honestly, I don't think they would've cared.

What Percy had said was true—there was a sign that read, "First Years," over one of the doorways leading into the dormitories. Hermione, Parvarti, Lavender, and I entered the door at the same time, exchanging glances.

One look outside the window told me we were in one of the tallest towers of the castle. The night sky was still up there, the stars twinkling merrily, but for the moment, the room had captured my attention. There were four separate beds with bedside tables, all with lamps. The beds were high up enough off the ground to stuff our trunks under them easily, and I noticed that around the beds, red curtains would cut off the rest of the room from view if pulled.

The four of us changed quickly. We were all girls, and were going to be our new roommates for the next seven years, who cared about changing in the bathrooms? And boys called us delicate…

Now in our pajamas, we all yawned each other "goodnight," but I barely got it out before crashing under my covers. I had just pulled the curtains about me when I closed my eyes, my first day of Hogwarts over.

...

The next few days passed by in a blur, what with lessons and getting to them and all.

It was nearly impossible for me, Harry, and Ron to remember where everything was. Staircases kept changing, for one, and secret passageways would sometimes not be there on a specific date or time. The older students got around no problem, but so far we'd met Peeves, who continued throwing chalk in my hair until we arrived at Charms and Professor Flitwick shooed him away. The first day, Harry, Ron and I accidentally tried to force our way through the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Filch, the caretaker, was not happy with us, to say the least. Luckily, Professor Quirrell was passing by, and he managed to calm Filch down enough to listen to reason.

I personally thought our classes were quite interesting. Wednesday nights, the first-year Gryffindors would climb to the top of the Astronomy tower and study the stars, which fascinated me. And then a few times a week, we would head outside under the sun for Herbology with Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff house.

Charms was entertaining as well—we would be practicing relatively practical things in the wizarding world for a while, and Professor Flitwick was excited for our first class. He was also very… interesting, I suppose you could say. For one, he was extremely short, so he had to pile books on his chair to see over the desk. I had to restrain from laughter when he fell off his books during roll call, for he had reached Harry's name and given a squeak of shock. Harry gave me a dirty look, but at my laughter, it melted.

History of Magic was different, though. It wasn't as interesting as the other classes, and was taught by Professor Binns, a ghost. He would talk about strange wizards none of us had heard of before, and after the first class, everyone sort of lost interest, for the students could be found staring out the window, at the clock, or off into space during the majority of the class. As for myself, well, Hermione and I were the only ones who tried to pay attention, but it was difficult because Professor Binns' voice was so monotonous.

Professor McGonagall was not lenient—she was as strict as she looked. The first thing she said when the first years were all present and accounted for was, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

After that, she was spectacular, impressing us all by transforming her desk into a pig and back, along with some other things. She informed us that we wouldn't get to that level for a long while, though, and she started us off by transfiguring matches into needles. Hermione and I were the only ones who made any difference to ours.

Then there was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Quirrell was strange, in his own way. There was a lingering smell of garlic or possibly onion in his classroom, and he claimed that it was there because he'd met a vampire in Romania. He also informed us that his turban had come from an African prince as thanks for getting rid of a zombie, but nobody really believed it. Quirrell seemed a bit jumpy… Fred and George Weasley kept pestering me about his turban being filled with garlic, but I managed to shoo them away after a while.

Transfiguration was the only class so far that Draco and I had together, which made us a little disappointed but suited the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins just fine. We would often practice together, despite others asking to pair up with us instead.

On Friday, Harry, Ron, and I managed to proceed to the Great Hall without getting lost, which to us, was a huge accomplishment. I was eating my cereal with one hand while checking my schedule with the other. Seeing what I was doing, Harry asked, "What have we got today?"

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," I said, my tone suggesting a bit of lightness. Ron and Harry, however, gagged and choked on what they'd been eating and simultaneously asked, "_What?!_"

Practically groaning the words, Ron told us, "Professor Snape's the head of Slytherin house, and they're always gloating about how he favors them."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," Harry said glumly, glaring into his porridge. She was the head of Gryffindor house, but she gave us the same treatment and amount of homework as the Slytherins. In fact, I suspected that since we were in her house, she expected us to be better than the others, so she gave us _more _homework.

Owls zoomed in through the windows, and though Harry had been shocked the first day this happened, Ron and I had barely lifted an eyebrow. We'd grown up used to that kind of thing.

Today, though, Harry got a letter.

"It's from Hagrid!" he exclaimed.

"Read it aloud!" Ron urged, and Harry did:

"Dear Harry, I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig. Hagrid."

"Why not?" I smiled, glad for the invite. I liked Hagrid—he seemed great_._

Harry scribbled _Yes, please, see you later, _on the back of the note, and Hedwig went flying out towards the grounds.

After she was gone, I stuffed my schedule back in my bag and asked, "Shall we go?"

Reluctantly, Harry and Ron agreed.

When Professor Snape billowed into the room, he said in a low dangerous voice, "There will be no silly incantations in this class."

His black cloak whirled about him as he turned sharply to face us. Glaring at each of us in turn, he began speaking lowly. The class was dead quiet as he whispered, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Here he stopped, his eyes scanning the classroom. I knew why—I'd heard a scratching sound before Professor Snape had been even in the middle of his speech.

He and I located the source at the same time—Harry was writing notes on what Professor Snape had been saying. I could see, "Brew glory," in his notes before I nudged him. He looked up abruptly and set his quill down just as quickly.

But too late—Snape had seen him as well.

"Harry Potter," he goaded quietly. "Our new _celebrity._"

Across the room, I heard snickering—Draco and Lizzie both had identical evil grins on their faces as they watched Harry squirm in discomfort. Snape watched Harry as well, and very suddenly, he asked, "Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root to an infusion of wormwood?"

Poor Harry looked startled at this question. He glanced at both Ron and I helplessly at the same time Hermione shot her hand into the air. I gestured towards Professor Snape, giving him a look that said, _Try, maybe you'll get it right._

But he was nervous and instead answered, "I don't know, sir."

Professor Snape's lips began to curl into what would've been a nasty sneer.

"Pity… clearly, fame isn't everything…"

There came more snickers from the Slytherin end of the classroom, and I shot Draco a look. He stopped laughing but didn't wipe the justified smile off his face. Lizzie, of course, gave me a look that said, _Piss off._

"Let's try again, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?"

Again, Harry turned to me, and though I knew this one, I couldn't tell him without giving Snape another reason to bully him. I tried to smile encouragingly at him, but he couldn't bring himself to answer and instead looked down, shaking his head dejectedly.

"You didn't decide to open a book before today, Potter?" Snape leered unpleasantly. I resisted the urge to frown as he said this, and he glanced at me.

Another smirk began forming on his face when Professor Snape said, "Let's turn to your friend… Skylar, I believe. Yes, Belle Skylar. Well, then, if you could supply me with this information, _Miss _Skylar. Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

I couldn't help it—I grinned at the Professor, who raised his eyebrows.

"A bezoar, _Professor,_" I said, taking care to add emphasis on that as he had with me, "Can be found in the stomach of a goat."

Professor Snape scowled slightly, but then he asked, "And what does it do?"

"A bezoar can be used as an antidote to poisons that would normally be fatal without it," I answered smugly, daring for him to say it was wrong.

Snape looked menacingly at me, but seeing my resolute expression, he gave me a thin-lipped smile and said, "You see, Potter, your friend can help you—if you aren't too proud to ask for it."

I frowned openly at Snape as he turned away.

Potions class proceeded quite like this—it appeared Ron had been right about Snape favoring his own students above all others. He set us with a partner on a potion that was supposed to cure boils. Harry and Ron teamed up, and I partnered with Dean, since Seamus was working with Neville.

The two of us weren't too bad at it—but of course, Professor Snape was going around, criticizing everyone except for Lizzie and Draco—he seemed to like them. It didn't help the way he loomed over everyone in his black cloak like a bat, trying to detect even the slightest misdeed.

But for some reason, Snape didn't give me or Dean a heinous time. He actually said, "Congratulations, Skylar, you've been able to crush your snake fangs to a perfect consistency. Most of the other buffoons can't say the same," before skulking off again… I wondered why he didn't mention Dean or his work, but my partner didn't seem to care, as long as Snape was _gone._

Suddenly, an acrid green smoke filled the air, and Neville's and Seamus's cauldron melted into a small patch of metal, the substance inside leaking onto the floor and burning holes through people's shoes. Neville moaned as red boils began popping up on his skin—I wanted to help but wasn't sure how, because all of us were on stools as the potion was all over the floor.

Professor Snape cleared it up with a flick of his wand. "Idiot boy! I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off of the fire? Take him up to the hospital wing," he added to Seamus, and they left only too gladly.

But then, for some obscure reason I didn't understand, Professor Snape turned towards Harry. Snarling, he said, "You—Potter—thought it would make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? One point from Gryffindor."

I thought that was totally bogus, seeing as _I _was closer to Neville than Harry—the least Snape could've done was be honest about that. Harry opened his mouth to object, but Ron nudged him with his elbow said, "Watch it. I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

The end of Potions came around, and Snape had something bad to say at almost every station except for Draco's and Lizzie's, Hermione's and Lavender's, and mine and Dean's. He praised Draco and Lizzie for its perfection, he complimented me on my work without giving Dean a second glance, and he said nothing about Hermione's concoction, which must've meant that she'd gotten it perfectly, too.

Ron and Harry were still fuming on the way to Hagrid's later.

"I mean, did you see that prat's face?" Ron kept exclaiming furiously. "I think Malfoy's going to be his favorite—that class will be hell."

"Which Malfoy?" Harry asked, scowling.

"Both of them. I hope Fred and George will let me know once they've pranked that Lizzie girl."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Oh, yeah, I never told you," Ron started, remembering. "Well, on the way to our common room from the first night's feast, Lizzie heard Fred and George talking about why they thought we weren't allowed past the third-floor corridor. So she said all haughtily, 'Well, of course _I _know. My Father's got lots of connections in the Ministry.' But when George asked her what it was, she responded all sniffy-like, 'Like I'd tell _you. _You'd probably sell my secrets to pay the rent.' And with that, she was off."

I gaped at him and gasped, "She didn't!"

"Oh, yes, she did," Harry said angrily. "I heard the whole thing."

The rest of the walk was spent in silence until we reached Hagrid's. We knocked on the door and heard ferocious bouts of barking; over the noise, Hagrid's voice came out.

"Back, Fang, back! Go on, you dozy dog, move."

Hagrid admitted our entry and we sat inside. He poured us tea and asked about our first week—of course, Harry and Ron immediately bombarded Hagrid with the Potions class we'd just come from, and once their tale was told, Harry said, "I think he hates me."

"Rubbish! Why should he?" Hagrid asked.

Harry and Ron shrugged. Then, giving me a sideways glance, Ron added, "He didn't seem to despise Belle, for whatever reason. It was weird…"

I shrugged in reply and murmured, "I think I was just lucky that he didn't hear the note of sarcasm in my voice when I said 'Professor' that first time."

"I actually think that was what made him like you!" Ron snorted, chuckling into his tea.

"Hagrid?" Harry asked suddenly, holding up a copy of the _Daily Prophet. _"What's this?"

"The wizard newspaper," I responded. "What's it say?" I craned my neck to see what the main topic was about.

Harry unfolded the paper to its proper length and spread it on the table. I could see the newspaper article by twisting my head a little bit, and I was able to decipher—

Gringotts Break-In Latest

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied that same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokes-goblin this afternoon.

"Hagrid!" exclaimed Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it—Hagrid was avoiding Harry's exclamation. Turning towards me and Ron, he asked pleasantly, "More tea?" even though we had just received refills seconds ago.


	3. Chapter 3

"Harry, Ron, you didn't," I moaned.

In response, Harry and Ron grinned at me. "Come on, Belle, we got away! It doesn't matter, we weren't even caught, quit worrying!"

I had just received the news that they had been lurking in the trophy room the previous night, waiting for Draco, who had promised Harry a wizard's duel. However, Draco had set Harry, Ron, and Hermione—she had been dragged into it—up to be expelled by tipping Filch off about someone being in the trophy room at midnight. Apparently, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gotten away because Hermione had used a spell to remove a lock on a door to hide behind. But according to Harry and Ron, that was the third-floor corridor, where they came face-to-face with a three-headed dog. They'd only just gotten away from both situations… and I missed out on all the good stuff.

I crossed my arms and huffed, "Well, be sure to invite me next time."

Harry and Ron cracked up, and I couldn't stay mad at them for long. Besides, tomorrow was Halloween—there was rumored to be a spectacular feast at the end of the day. Not to mention that Halloween was on a Friday night, so there would no classes the morning after, which was doubly brilliant.

"Still, Harry, that was really risky," I scolded. "You'd already decided to fly to get Neville's Remembrall from Draco—that was the second major rule you'd broken yesterday."

My friends grinned deviously at me and responded, "But he/I got away with it, didn't he/I?" at the same time.

Rolling my eyes, I said nothing.

Before long, I was focusing on my Potions homework—which I was proofreading for the fifth time—and trying not to listen to Harry's and Ron's whispers of what the three-headed dog could be guarding. Hermione had supposedly seen it standing on a trap door, so now the two of them were convinced that the thing the Gringotts bank robber had been after was down that trap door. I lost interest in their childish antics after a while, paying attention to more sophisticated and important matters like Potions homework. Of course, I knew by now that Professor Snape sort of liked me, but all the same…

The mail arrived; I hardly looked up as a thin parcel was plopped in front of Harry—I knew he was getting a broomstick, Professor McGonagall had put him on the house team instead of on Platform 9¾ back to the Muggles. Go figure.

As Harry and Ron left the Great Hall with me, I stepped aside as Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle appeared with their symmetrical sneers and high-held heads.

Draco seized the package from Harry's hands, weighing it, trying to find out its contents.

Shoving it back at him, he grumbled angrily and jealously, "That's a broomstick. You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't restrain himself as he bragged, "It's not just any old broomstick. It's a Nimbus 2000. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two-Sixty?" Grinning at Harry, he added, "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle. I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig," Draco responded spitefully.

Professor Flitwick suddenly appeared, saying in his squeaky voice, "Not arguing, are we, boys? And Ms. Skylar?"

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Draco said quickly, throwing a glare at Harry_._

But he was quite disappointed.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands together excitedly, much to Draco's dismay. "Yes, yes, that's right. Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus 2000, sir," Harry replied, barely restraining a justified grin. His eyes found Draco as he added, "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."

They walked away, roaring with laughter. Professor Flitwick smiled heartily and rushed into the Great Hall on his short legs, leaving me, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle standing there.

"What did he mean by that?" Draco asked.

"Oh," I sighed, "Well, remember when you threw the Remembrall?" Draco nodded. "Professor McGonagall made him Seeker on the house team instead of punishing him. That's why he's got such a good broomstick."

Draco scowled and replied, "Great… well, that didn't work, did it?"

I laughed curtly and asked, "Why do you hate him so much?"

"Do I need a reason?" he answered childishly.

"No, I guess not," I sighed. Ready to go back to the common room to look over my Charms essay, I added, "I've got to go, Draco, see you in Transfiguration today."

He nodded and walked away, his two cronies by his side.

The next day, during Charms, Harry was uncontrollably happy. He was my partner for the Levitating Spell, and he couldn't seem to stop talking about Quidditch, which apparently, he found fascinating.

His cheeriness was contagious, and I found myself laughing, "Harry! Levitating spells!"

"Oh, right," he said sheepishly. Then, waving his arm in that specific flicking movement Professor Flitwick made us practice, he exclaimed, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather we were supposed to be levitating only moved slightly. Harry didn't seem very dispirited. He waved me on jovially, and now it was I who said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

My feather hovered about a foot off the desk, but then plopped back down, unwilling to fly any farther.

From Professor Flitwick's desk, I heard clapping. Glancing over at him, I was amused to see that he was standing tip-toe on his pile of books, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Well done!" he exclaimed. "You've almost got it, Miss Skylar! Just a little more wrist, now!"

To my left, I heard Ron shouting, "Wingardium Leviosa!" He was quite frustrated, and I could see why—one, he wasn't able to do it, two, Hermione Granger was his Charms partner.

Ron practically threw his wand down upon the feather; of course, it didn't budge. Hermione seized his arm and said, "Stop it, stop it, you're going to take someone's eye out."

Already angry, he shouted, "All right, go on then. You do it if you're so clever."

Hermione gave him a sniff and then raised her wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

At once, her feather hopped into the air, two feet… four feet… it escalated higher and higher over all our heads, and everyone stopped what they were doing to see who had managed to make their feather fly.

If Professor Flitwick had been excited before, he was ecstatic now.

At the end of class, I joined Harry and Ron in walking out of the classroom. We had returned our feathers—well, not Seamus. His had blown up. Somehow, he always managed to do that. I smiled to myself while I thought of Seamus that morning. He had been trying to turn water into rum with his silly incantation of, "Eye of rabbit, harp-string hum, turn this water into rum!"

His goblet blew up. His eyebrows had been singed off and his goblet had been smoking.

It had been quite entertaining.

But Ron was not in a very jovial mood. Being shown up by Hermione Granger didn't suit him, it seemed. He was in a rant, shouting, "She's a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she doesn't have any friends."

I was just about to say, "Sure she does," when someone budged in between him and me. I recognized the bushy mane of mouse-brown hair immediately. I could hear her sniffle.

"I think she heard you," Harry mumbled quietly.

"So?" Ron exclaimed, but he was looking rather uncomfortable.

The rest of the day, no one could find Hermione. Nobody caught a glimpse of her. But while I was walking towards the Halloween feast with Harry and Ron, I heard Parvarti whisper to Lavender, "Do you know what's gotten into Hermione? She's been in the girls' bathroom, crying all afternoon!"

Ron squirmed as if he had ants in his pants—which wasn't true. Scabbers was in his pocket, not ants.

We proceeded into the Great Hall and gaped wordlessly at what awaited us. Thousands of bats hung from the ceiling—and they were alive, as they proved to be when a few of them suddenly flew off to give their wings a stretch. Pumpkins were placed all along the four house tables, candles inside them to form jack-o'-lanterns, but the faces changed shape every now and then. On golden platters, the feast appeared… and though it was all very nice and appealing, I couldn't imagine anyone missing out on this.

"Hold on, wait here," I told Harry and Ron.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked me, staring at me as I rose from my seat.

Looking back at him, I responded, "Nobody should have to miss this. Not on Halloween. I'm going to get Hermione."

They both nodded—Ron's was a little stiff.

But I didn't care as I exited the Great Hall. Surely Hermione would come back out when I made her listen to reason. Ron was just being a great prat, he was probably just jealous… as long as Ron wasn't too mad when I told him what I'd say.

On my way out, I passed Professor Quirrell, who looked absolutely terrified; his turban was messed up, his face pale. I didn't even get a chance to tell him "Happy Halloween" before he darted past me into the Great Hall.

Confused, I shrugged my shoulders and kept going. From around a couple more corners, I could hear screams and shouts, but I figured it was a Halloween prank. Continuing on, I reached the girls' bathroom and opened the door.

Sure enough, I could hear stifled sobs from one of the stalls. Finding out which one it was, I asked, "Hermione?" just loud enough for her to know I was there.

The crying stopped as she said heavily, "What do you want?"

"For you to come to the Halloween feast," I replied, gazing at the stall door within which she was concealed.

"Why should I?" she asked miserably. "I don't have anyone to sit or talk to or laugh with. You're friends with Harry and Ron—I don't have any."

"That's not true," I argued. "We're roommates and Potions partners. We work on homework together, too. I hope you know I consider you a friend of mine."

I watched the stall door open a crack, and one of her tear-filled brown eyes peeked out at me to see if I was lying. She gazed at me skeptically before saying, "You really mean that?"

"Yeah," I responded, smiling a little. "I do."

She sniffed appreciatively and asked, "You're going to sit with me?"

"Of course."

Now she smiled, and exited the stall completely. But looking past me, her eyes widened in shock, her mouth fell open, and her hand shakily pointed at something behind me. A disgusting smell filled the air.

Slowly, I turned to find the largest and ugliest thing I'd ever seen. Its skin was lumpy gray, its body much too huge for its head, its ears too big for its face. Without a doubt—it was a troll—here in Hogwarts.

It stared stupidly down at us, and I could hear the lock bolt shut. At the same time, Hermione and I screamed as loudly as we could.

Outside, I could hear two familiar voices screaming our names—one shouted, "Hermione!" the other, "Belle!"

The troll heard their voices too, and it turned towards the door. I could hear Harry and Ron fumbling with the lock outside, trying to get back inside. Hermione and I used the split second of the troll's hesitation to sprint to the opposite end of the bathroom to get as far away from the troll as possible.

The monster turned back towards us, and I saw what was in its hands. I had failed to notice it before, but now it hit me full in the face with horrible realization. It had a large wooden club, and it raised its hand menacingly just as Harry and Ron burst into the bathroom.

Hermione and I were hiding against the wall, trying our best to not seem like targets.

"Confuse it!" Harry shouted to Ron. He seized a tap off the sink and threw it at the troll's head. Though the tap didn't hurt the troll, it turned on Harry, staring at him instead of us.

"Oi, pea-brain!" Ron yelled, throwing a metal pipe at it. The troll hesitated long enough to stop focusing on Harry, turning towards Ron instead. Harry barely had enough time to dart around the other side of the troll, shouting, "Come on, run! _Run!_" at us.

I sprinted towards him, but Hermione couldn't move for shock. All the sounds echoing around the chamber were confusing the troll—he hadn't been particularly intelligent to begin with—but now it roared and started towards Ron, who was pinned against the wall.

Harry leapt and managed to grab the troll around the neck, making sure the troll would stop where he was.

"Harry!" I screamed.

Apparently, grabbing onto it wasn't a good idea. The troll shook its head wildly, trying to buck Harry off. Meanwhile, Hermione was still on the ground, cowering in fear, and Ron was gaping at Harry, trying to think of what to do next.

"Rictumsempra!" I screamed, pointing my wand at one of the troll's meaty legs.

The troll buckled onto the floor, its knees not strong enough to hold it upright. Its head was still shaking, and Harry was clinging for dear life… but the troll stopped once Harry's wand was accidentally shoved up its nose.

Finally, the troll grabbed Harry off its neck and was about ready to hit him with its club.

"Do something!" Harry shouted, somehow managing to escape the blow from the club.

"What?"

"Anything!" he shouted.

Suddenly, Ron shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club escaped the troll's hold. It stopped itself from hitting Harry's head and floated in midair. The troll was startled to find its weapon no longer residing in its hand, but flying calmly above its head.

When the troll finally looked up, Ron dropped his wand, therefore dropping the club.

The club hit the troll hard—a dull _CLUNK_ echoed throughout the stone chamber. The troll dropped Harry, who hit the ground with an, "Oof!" Then it began stumbling around blindly, forcing me and Ron to back up to avoid being squashed by five tons of mountain troll.

It lay unconscious. Hermione was still against the wall, staring at it. A few of the sinks were in shatters, the porcelain strewn all about the floor. Some of the tiles from the floor had popped up, leaving craters. The mirrors were mainly intact, but one or two had broken, sending shards of glass everywhere.

The first to say anything was Hermione, who asked timidly, "Is it… dead?"

"I don't think so," Harry responded. "I think it's just been knocked out."

His eyes fell on his wand, which was still stuck inside the troll's nose. With an expression of utmost disgust, he pulled it out. It was covered in slimy gray stuff.

"Uggghhhh…" he groaned, wiping the wand on the troll's flimsy shirt. "Troll boogers."

Suddenly, there was a loud slam and footsteps. I supposed we'd been really loud, but hadn't noticed it. A mere second later, Professor McGonagall appeared in the room. Professors Snape and Quirrell were after her, and Quirrell took one look at the troll and nearly fainted, clutching at his heart.

Professor Snape inspected the troll as Professor McGonagall stared at me, Harry and Ron. Our slight smiles faded as she whispered menacingly, "What on earth were you thinking of? You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

There came a terrified squeak, and Hermione came out from behind one of the stall doors. "Please, Professor McGonagall," she began, shaking, "they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall looked aghast.

Hermione took a deep breath before saying, "I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron's mouth dropped open; Harry attempted to keep a straight face; Hermione lying to a teacher? It was like Professor Snape had given Harry a 100% on a homework assignment.

Hermione continued on. "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Belle managed to distract it from me, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

The three of us exchanged looks but said nothing, trying to look like this story wasn't complete and utter rubbish.

"Well—in that case…" Professor McGonagall glared at us through her spectacles. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a fully grown mountain troll all on your own?"

Hermione's gaze drooped, pretending to look ashamed.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast there."

Hermione nodded and gave me a look that asked, _Will you still sit with me?_

I nodded back, giving her a grateful smile, which was returned as she left.

Now Professor McGonagall turned to the three of us. "Well, I still say that you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

The three of us hustled out as fast as we could go, back up to Gryffindor tower. On the way, Ron grumbled, "We should have gotten more than fifteen points."

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's," Harry corrected him.

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron said, impressed. "Mind you, we _did _save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her… and with you, Belle," Harry added a little guiltily.

"It's fine," I replied. "Gave us a rather nasty shock, though."

"Yeah, so we heard," said Ron, grinning.

We reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and simultaneously said, "Pig snout."

She swung open as always, saying, "Happy Halloween." We returned it and entered the common room, which was packed with comfort foods and delectable sweets.

Fred and George bellowed us a hearty welcome—apparently, news had spread faster than we thought.

Not allowing us to go and wash ourselves of the dust and grime, they beckoned us to tell them what happened. We caught sight of Hermione, who was standing alone, waiting for us.

Excusing ourselves and promising to tell them everything later, we made our way over to her. The four of us exchanged embarrassed grins and muttered swiftly, "Thanks." Without another word, we made our way to the food for a real feast with friends.

I don't really know what happened between Hermione and the boys. But from then on, they were nice to each other. Soon enough the three of us were soon found to hanging around Hermione as well. I guess they thought that after such a life-threatening experience, it would be rather hard to go back to despising each other.

So now, the four of us were friends.


	4. Chapter 4

The weather outside became chillier as November passed; the leaves began turning different colors.

The castle was beginning to become very spirited. Rumors were flying about Quidditch and the house teams—it was almost the season for the sport. Apparently, people had a great interest in Quidditch at Hogwarts, which was good for everyone except poor Harry, who was becoming nervous. The first Quidditch match of the season was in just two hours. It would be Gryffindor versus Slytherin, a nice grudge match.

Eleven in the morning came about, and Ron, Hermione, and I were standing in the spectator area, waiting and watching with jackets over our shirts and scarves around our necks. Our cheeks were already pink with cold, but we were too excited to really care.

Finally, the two teams came onto the field. I scanned the scarlet robes eagerly for a sign of Harry—it wasn't hard to find him. He was easily the smallest person on the team, as well as the queasiest.

Down on the field, I heard Madam Hooch say, "Mount your brooms… all right, three, two, one!"

She blew her whistle and the game began. Immediately, Harry flew above everyone, squinting for the Snitch.

I laughed as I heard the commentator—Lee Jordan, Fred and George's friend. It was quite humorous; "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor," Lee said, not abashed in the slightest by Professor McGonagall's scolding. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he's going to score—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindors have taken the Quaffle—that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must've hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger—sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which, nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she's really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goal posts are ahead, come on now, Angelina, Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

I laughed as Harry looped around on his broom once or twice before searching for the Snitch again as if nothing had happened. A Bludger suddenly decided to come his way, but before anything could happen, Fred knocked it aside.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee commented , "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds towards the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?"

The crowd scanned the air feverishly, attempting to see if Lee was right. At the same time, Harry and the Slytherin Seeker darted forward towards it. The game seemed to stop entirely as everyone watched.

But suddenly, Marcus Flint of Slytherin blocked Harry off, nearly throwing Harry off his new broom.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle for a foul, allowing the Gryffindors a free shot at the goal posts.

Behind me, I could hear Dean shouting, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Ron asked, turning to look at him.

"Red card!" Dean exclaimed angrily. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"This isn't soccer, Dean," Ron answered, exasperated.

At the same time, Lee was having a bit of a hard time, battling with Professor McGonagall about his commentating. "So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan…"

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"_Jordan, I'm warning you—"_

"All right, all right! Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away no trouble and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession." I watched the game enthusiastically as he continued with, "Oops, no, Slytherin in possession now—Flint with the Quaffle—passes Spinnet, Bell—hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose—only joking, Professor—Slytherins score, oh, no…"

The Slytherins were cheering on the opposite side of the stands. One person stood out—the long silver-blonde hair of Lizzie Malfoy revealed she was heavily into the game; she hopped up and down and screamed at the Slytherin players. Draco was beside her, looking utterly embarrassed by her behavior. I couldn't help but laugh at that.

My attention turned back to Harry to see if he'd seen the Snitch. I grew confused when I saw he was rising higher and higher, away from the stands and away from the game.

"Harry?" I asked, puzzled, gazing up at him as he rose.

The broomstick jerked and twisted, writhing in vain to attempt to throw Harry off. It rolled over and over, and I screamed as Harry was left holding onto the broom with one hand, dangling above the crowd.

Hermione seized Dean's binoculars and scanned across the crowd. But then she gasped and exclaimed, "I knew it—Snape! He's jinxing the broom!"

Snape did indeed have his eyes locked on Harry; he was mouthing something.

"What do we do?" asked Ron.

"Leave that to me," answered Hermione, darting off. I watched anxiously as Fred and George circled below Harry, hoping to catch him if he fell. Everyone in the stands was on their feet, watching and waiting for what the outcome would be. Marcus Flint scored five times without anyone noticing or caring.

I watched Hermione as she barreled through people to get to Snape. She knocked straight over Professor Quirrell and muttered something to get Snape's cloak to catch on fire. When he finally noticed, Hermione put the spell out, and my attention was back on Harry, who could finally mount his broom again.

A minute later, he dived, the Slytherin Seeker straight after him.

Harry fell off his broom five feet off the ground, but instantly he stood back up, grasping his stomach and looking nauseous. Everyone gasped—did the wild broomstick ride make him sick?

But then he coughed out something small and golden, and he held it up to the crowd. "I've got the Snitch!"

The Gryffindor end erupted into cheers as Flint howled, "He didn't catch the Snitch, he nearly _swallowed _it!" But nobody cared about what he said.

Everyone was celebrating their victory, but in the hubbub, Ron, Hermione, Harry and I managed to escape back to Hagrid's hut, where he served us strong cups of tea.

"It was Snape," Ron explained furiously to Hagrid. "Hermione, Belle, and I saw him! He was cursing Harry's broomstick, muttering, his eyes weren't moving from Harry at all."

"Rubbish," scoffed Hagrid. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

"I found out something about him," Harry muttered. I wondered if this was a good idea—after Halloween, Harry had told me that Snape had been limping, and he hadn't been in the dungeons searching for the troll.

"He was going towards the third-floor corridor," Harry announced. "I'm certain of it. He went to go look at that three-headed dog."

_CLANK!_ Hagrid had dropped his teapot. "How d'you know about Fluffy?"

"_Fluffy?!_" Ron asked, appalled.

"Yeah, he's mine! Bought him off a Greek chap I met in a pub last year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the… well, never you mind," he finished, remembering that we weren't supposed to know anything about Fluffy. "Now, don't ask me anymore," Hagrid added. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," exclaimed Harry.

"Rubbish," Hagrid said again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" demanded Hermione. It seemed she didn't have any more respect for him after what had just happened. Come to think of it, neither did I. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

Hagrid had just about had enough, though.

"I'm tellin' yeh, you're wrong. I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try and kill a student! Now listen to me, all of yeh—you're meddling in things that don' concern you. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, and you forget what it's guarding, that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"

"Aha!" Harry exclaimed. "So there's someone named Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

...

Christmas came and went—I returned home to visit my parents after wishing Harry and Ron a Merry Christmas. Hermione was urging them to look up Nicolas Flamel while we were gone up until she was escorted out of the castle by the horseless carriages.

I made sure to send Harry and Ron a couple boxes of sweets for Christmas.

But now I was back in Hogwarts Castle, being informed by Harry and Ron about what they'd done over Christmas break. I could barely keep up—Harry had been sent an Invisibility Cloak, he'd found something called the Mirror of Erised which Dumbledore himself told him not to go looking for again, and they hadn't found Nicolas Flamel anywhere, even though Harry had gone to the Restricted Section.

Trying to get them to calm down, I asked if they enjoyed their holidays otherwise, to which they responded yes. When Hermione returned, however, she was disappointed that they hadn't found Nicolas Flamel—much more so than I was.

So now we were back to skimming the whole bloody library to find out who this guy was. Harry didn't have as much time to do this as the rest of us because of Quidditch practice.

In fact, his Captain, Oliver Wood, was working them extremely hard. One day, Harry came back soaked to the skin, but weighed down even more with bad news.

I invited him to sit by the fire; "Thanks," he said miserably. He sighed once he sat down and groaned, his head in his hands, "Snape's refereeing the next match."

"Don't play," I suggested.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione advised.

"_Really _break your leg," added Ron.

"I can't," Harry moaned. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

"Oh, Harry, you can't possibly be thinking about risking your life for a Quidditch game!" I exclaimed, horrified at the prospect.

He looked at me with his green eyes and was about to respond when Neville collapsed into the common room. Everybody laughed as he fell and hit the rug with an, "Oomph!"

Hermione quickly performed the counter-curse, allowing Neville to move his legs freely again. Unless he'd been cursed right outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, he would've had to bunny-hop all the way up.

"It was Malfoy," he said shakily.

Catching my breath, I asked, "Which one?"

"Draco… I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

Frowning, I leapt up and grumbled, "Be right back," before stomping off. Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione all watched me exit the portrait hole.

After a short delay from Peeves—who decided it would be funny to follow me, pelt me with chalk, and tease me about dating famous Harry Potter (which I ignored)—I marched to the library and almost ran straight into Goyle on my way in. As usual, Crabbe and Draco were with him.

"Hey, Belle," Draco said airily, smiling. "What's happening?"

"You just cursed Neville."

Draco smirked. "Yeah, it was great. Probably had to hop all the way to your common room, I'd expect. Did you see his face?"

I scowled at him, and the arrogant look in his eyes diminished slightly.

"That wasn't very funny, Draco," I muttered. "People get hurt by things like that—especially when his own friends laugh at him." My face fell; I had laughed as well.

"Oh, come on, Skylar!" exclaimed Draco. "I was curious to see what it did! And besides, it _was _pretty funny."

"Now that I think about it, that wasn't funny at all!" I said shrilly. "Would you have done it to me?"

Draco's smile faded entirely. "No. Why would I?"

"Then why did you do it to Neville?"

He had no answer, and I turned with a scoff. I had better places to be than here, arguing with Draco Malfoy. The boy I'd gotten to know and like from Transfiguration classes was going to be a bully… I could see it now. He'd be jinxing Neville every day in a couple months.

Before long, he might even be pulling those hexes on _me._

"Hey! Belle!" he exclaimed, but I turned the corner and didn't look back.

Once I reached the Fat Lady, I said dully, "Pig snout," and marched inside. As I expected, the others were waiting for me.

"I'm sorry for laughing at you earlier, Neville," I said. He smiled a little and replied, "No harm done," but I pretended I didn't hear him.

Harry searched his pockets and found a Chocolate Frog. Neville looked surprised and grateful as Harry gave it to him.

"Just remember what I said," Harry reminded him. "You're worth twelve of Malfoy—"

"Thirteen," I interrupted.

Harry gazed at me and asked, "What?"

"Nothing, sorry."

"Right…" he said slowly, watching me. "Anyway, the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor, didn't it? And where're the Malfoys? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's face twitched into a weak smile. "Thanks, Harry… Do you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

Harry glanced at the card and gasped. "I've found him! _I've found Nicolas Flamel!_"

Hermione, Ron, and I gasped. Neville looked confused, but only stared into the fireplace.

"'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!'_" Harry read aloud, his face glowing.

"Oh!" Hermione suddenly gasped, dashing to our dormitory. She returned carrying an old and weathered book.

And it was a very _large_ book at that.

"I never thought to look in here!" she hissed. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading!"

"_This…"_ muttered Ron, "is _light?!"_

Hermione flipped through a couple of pages and whispered dramatically, "Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

I gasped. I knew what those were—some sort of stone that made the person who owned it rich or something.

Harry and Ron, however, asked stupidly, "The what?"

"Oh, _honestly, _don't you two read? Look—read that, there."

We angled our heads so that we would be able to see:

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle._

"See?" Hermione whispered. "The dog must be guarding the Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone out of Gringotts!"

It made perfect sense.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" Harry exclaimed. "No wonder Snape's after it! _Anyone _would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in any of our books on recent history," Ron added. "He's not exactly recent if he's 665, is he?"

"That makes sense…" I murmured, piecing those two facts together.

But Neville's curiosity was piqued now. "What are you guys talking about?"

The four of us exchanged looks. "Can't tell you, Neville, it's supposed to be top-secret," said Ron, shrugging.

"Knowing me, I'll probably forget by tomorrow morning," Neville sighed hopelessly. "Like I can't think of anything good to get Malfoy back with… the spells escape my mind."

I remembered my predicament with Draco. My voice thick, I advised, "Be careful around Malfoy, Neville. The way he's going, I… I don't know what's going to happen to him." The four of them inspected me strangely. "I'm going to bed," I muttered.

"It's Saturday night, Belle!" Ron exclaimed. "And it's only seven-thirty!"

I didn't listen to him. Instead, I ascended the spiral steps up into my dormitory. The conversation on the train to Hogwarts with Harry and Ron replayed in my mind—it seemed like I would have an enemy after all.

I had just delayed the whole matter, not stopped it.

...

The next Quidditch match steadily approached, and knowing Snape was the referee wasn't comforting.

When the morning arrived, I tried to wish Harry good luck, but the words got stuck in my throat. So instead, I nodded and squeezed his hand.

Hermione, Ron, Neville and I all made our way to the Quidditch stands. There we waited for the teams of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff to enter the ring.

Beside me, Hermione whispered, "Don't forget you guys, it's _Locomotor Mortis._"

"I know," snapped Ron. "Don't nag."

Suddenly, the whistle sounded, and the fourteen brooms were in the air. I watched Harry grimly, trying not to be distracted.

But that was a little hard to do when Ron jumped and exclaimed, "Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there," a familiar drawling voice said.

I vowed not to turn around.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

I murmured to Ron, "Don't let him bait you, Draco's just being obnoxious. Ignore him, no matter what, watch Harry."

Draco wasn't giving up, though. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, they've got no money—you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville turned around and managed to stammer like Professor Quirrell, "I'm worth twelve—thirteen!—of you, Malfoy."

"You tell him, Neville," Ron mumbled.

"Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

"Shut up!" I screeched, whirling to face Draco. "Stop insulting people, Draco! It's mean!"

He didn't hear me, though, because Ron had shouted even louder than I had, "I'm warning you, Malfoy—one more word—"

Harry suddenly went into a spectacular dive, drawing the crowd out of their seats.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!"

Ron and Neville had had enough. Together, they launched themselves at Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had accompanied him. Hermione and I were screaming ourselves hoarse, her cheering Harry on, me trying to get the two brawls to separate.

Snape had to turn swiftly to avoid Harry colliding into him—the next moment, Harry rose up into the air, a golden ball clasped in his hand.

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione. "Ron, where are you?"

I dove under the seats and grabbed Draco's arm as he was about ready to punch Ron in the face. "Draco, stop," I pleaded. He glanced at me before nodding curtly.

"Get Neville!" I shouted at Hermione. She did so a little reluctantly.

Upon seeing Draco and Ron, I gasped. They looked horrible—Ron had a purple welt on his right cheekbone, and his nose was bleeding. Draco was going to have a rather nasty black eye; his lips were cut and bleeding. I gazed at them and asked exasperatedly, "Why?!"

They both looked away.

I stomped off crossly, even more so than the night before. Hermione was attempting to wake up Neville, who had been knocked out cold by Crabbe and Goyle. The only person who followed me was Draco.

"Hey—Belle—SKYLAR!"

He shouted my name with so much force that I stopped. He reached me and asked, "Are you all right?"

"No!" I shouted indignantly. "You're going to get in serious trouble with Ron and Harry, Draco! And you're turning into a bully… always insulting Neville and Ron and Harry all the time. Why do you do it?"

He stared at me, at a loss for words.

"See, you don't even have a reason," I groaned. "Do you do it because it's fun?" He began to shake his head. "Do you do it to hurt them—or me?"

"No!" His uninjured eye widened.

"Well, that's what it seems like, Draco. I liked you better the way you were before you starting pulling hexes on people. My other friends don't know why I'm friends with you—they don't understand why you're my Transfiguration partner. And if you keep this up, I'm afraid _I'm _going to start wondering that, too."

I turned away from the hurt expression on Draco's face and began to head up to the castle, leaving the others back in the Quidditch stands.

...

Back in the common room, Fred and George had managed to steal several cakes and sweets from the kitchens. They were awaiting Harry for a great celebration. Ron and Hermione had caught up to me eventually, but I refused to tell them what had happened. So they left me alone to wait for Harry like everyone else.

When he arrived, everyone exploded with cheers except me. I was in too much a foul mood to do much more than smile, and even that was a little forced.

My lack of participation must've been obvious, because Harry came up and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Ask Ron," I said curtly with a wave of my hand. His nose had stopped bleeding, but the welt was still visible. "He and Draco were fighting during the Quidditch match… Draco wouldn't stop yapping, and Neville's still in the hospital wing. Bloody child took on Crabbe and Goyle by himself… still passed out cold, I expect."

He looked amazed—impressed, even. But seeing my expression, he only grinned shyly and replied, "Yes, but that aside… we won, didn't we?"

Only Harry could've made me forget about the fight. So, smiling, I replied, "I saw your dive. Pity you didn't knock Snape off his broom. Then we'd have something else to celebrate."

Now he laughed and helped me up from my spot on the floor. Together, we joined Ron and Hermione before feasting on sweets. But halfway through the party, Harry pulled us aside.

"Okay, now that people aren't surrounding us on all sides, there's something I got to tell you…"

He proceeded to tell us about Quirrell's and Snape's conversation in the Forbidden Forest, and how he had heard Snape threatening Quirrell about where his loyalties lay…

When he was finished, I stared at Harry, aghast.

"So you were right, it _is _the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to steal it," Harry added, gazing desperately at us. "He asked if Quirrell knew how to get past Fluffy, and I reckon that there are other things guarding the stone apart from him, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through—"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stand up to Snape?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," groaned Ron.


	5. Chapter 5

Apparently, Professor Quirrell was stronger than he let on, because for a long time afterwards—much longer than next Tuesday, at any rate—Professor Quirrell did not seem to have cracked yet. Coupled with the fact that Snape was surlier than ever, we predicted the stone was still safe… for now.

But there were more things filling our trouble list. Exams were coming soon, and Hermione and I were the only ones who had started studying… though maybe Hermione was going a little overboard with it. She was fretting about all of her notes, even color-coding them, which the rest of us found extremely OCD-like.

It was funny when she'd started nagging Harry and Ron to do the same.

One afternoon, however, Harry suggested we go down to Hagrid's to keep our minds off of end-of-the-year exams. So we trotted down the grounds—Hermione a little reluctantly since she was missing study time—and knocked on Hagrid's front door.

We were surprised to hear him call, "Who is it?" But when he saw it was us, he admitted us inside hurriedly, closing the door straight afterward.

"Hagrid," began Harry. "We wanted to ask you something. We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

It seemed as if Hagrid wasn't surprised that we'd found out what was below the trap-door Fluffy was guarding. He knew we'd found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

"O' course I can't," he shrugged. "One, I don' know myself. Two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here for a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts—I suppose you've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know about Fluffy."

"Oh come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you _do _know, you know everything that goes on round here," Hermione said, hoping to compliment Hagrid. If that was her goal, she succeeded, because Hagrid smiled from under his big black beard. "We only wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you," she added.

Hagrid's smile grew wider. "Well, I don' suppose it could hurt to tell yeh that… let's see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments. Professor Sprout—Professor Flitwick—Professor McGonagall—Professor Quirrell… and then Professor Dumbledore himself, of course. Hang on, I missed someone…" he stopped to recall whom he had forgotten. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he exclaimed, "Oh, yeah! And Professor Snape!"

"_Snape?!_" Harry exclaimed, astonished.

"Yeah—you're not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped _protect _the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry and I exchanged looks, and I could see the worry in his green eyes. We knew that if Snape had been trusted enough to be let in on all the enchantments, then he most likely knew how to get past them all… except for Hagrid's and Quirrell's things, of course.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except for me and Dumbledore," Hagrid said proudly, his chest swelling a bit.

"Well, that's something, then," Ron murmured quietly. "Hagrid, can we open a window? I'm boiling in here."

It was true—for some peculiar reason, Hagrid's hut was sweltering. I had been sweating long before but hadn't noticed because I had been so wrapped up in the conversation.

"Can't, Ron, sorry," Hagrid said, glancing at the fire. The four of us looked at it, too.

"Hagrid…" Harry said slowly, pointing at the thing in the fire. "What… is that?"

I could hear the quiver in his voice; he knew exactly what it was. As a matter of fact, I did, too. There was in the very heart of the roaring flame… a large, black, dragon egg.

"Ah," Hagrid began, "That's—um…"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" Ron asked, stooping down for a better look. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it, actually," answered Hagrid. "Last night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad to be rid of it, ter be honest."

"What are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" asked Hermione.

"I've bin doing some readin'," Hagrid explained, searching for something. When he turned back to face us, I saw that there was a large book in his hands titled, _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_.

"It's a bit outta date, o' course," Hagrid said, "but it's all in here. What I've got is a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

I looked around. Breathlessly, I told him, "Hagrid… you live in a wooden house. Something just doesn't work here."

He didn't listen to me, though. Instead, he stoked the fire, humming.

Turned out instead of relieving us of troubles, Hagrid actually added yet another one onto our shoulders.

...

During breakfast in two days' time, Harry received a note during mail call. It only had two words—_It's hatching._

Ron was all for skipping Herbology to go and watch. Hermione and I, however, didn't think it a very brilliant idea.

"Hermione! Belle, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" he kept repeating, exasperated.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing—" Hermione began, but Harry and I both interrupted her with, "SHHHH!"

Draco walked around the corner, almost running into me. He gave me a small smile before quietly saying, "Sorry." I stared at him—since Crabbe and Goyle weren't around for once, he didn't seem so mean. But I noticed his eyes didn't want to meet mine.

"Draco?" I asked hesitantly. He didn't stop, and I watched him meet Lizzie outside the Great Hall. She wore a malicious smile, as if she knew everything we'd said, even if Draco didn't.

She guided her brother into the Great Hall, smirking. Draco still wouldn't look at me.

Eventually, Hermione and Ron agreed to go down to Hagrid's during morning break. We got there just in time to see the egg give one humongous shudder and then burst.

Out popped a black, scaly glob of dragon. It flopped onto the table, looking like a worn piece of black leather. Stretching its wings, I saw that they looked paper thin.

The first thing it did was sneeze, causing for sparks to fly from its mouth.

"Hagrid…" Hermione asked timidly. "How fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

His mouth opened to answer, but all of a sudden, he jumped like he'd had a pin stuck in him. He bolted over to the window, appearing horrified.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Two kids looking in the window…" he answered, still staring.

We threw ourselves out the front door. Sure enough, two kids were running back up to the school as fast as they could. My heart fell when I saw the silver-blond dart out of sight.

Lizzie _had _heard us.

The Malfoys had seen the dragon.

...

Over the next few days, we pleaded with Hagrid to let the dragon go. Hagrid, however, wouldn't listen to us. He would reply, "I can't. He's too little—he'd die out there."

Then he'd go back and coo at the dragon, which he named Norbert.

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered while Hagrid asked in a baby-voice, "Norbert! Where's mommy?"

No matter what Harry, Ron, Hermione, or I said, nothing we could do could convince Hagrid that having an illegal dragon in a wooden house was a bad idea. Hagrid would bite his lip and say, "I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Suddenly, Harry turned to Ron and said, "Charlie."

Ron stared at him and replied, "You're losing it, too. I'm Ron, remember?"

"No, no! Your brother Charlie! In Romania, studying dragons—we could send Norbert to him. Charlie could take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

After a debate, Hagrid eventually agreed for us to send a letter to Charlie, asking if he would take the dragon.

Once Ron sent the letter, the rest of us waited anxiously for his reply.

The response couldn't come fast enough. Over the next few days, Lizzie was more sinister than ever, smirking at me and Harry whenever she possibly could. Draco began to regain some of his old swagger, but every time he would meet my eyes, that would diminish.

Finally, Hedwig returned with Charlie's answer. Ron couldn't open the letter since his hand was swollen and wrapped in a bandage. He was moaning about how the dragon was a menace—apparently it had bitten him.

Harry opened the letter and read out loud, "Dear Ron. How are you? Thanks for the letter—I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me this week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark. Send me an answer as soon as possible. Love, Charlie."

Sighed Harry, "I've got the Invisibility Cloak. It shouldn't be too difficult—I think it'll be big enough to carry us and Norbert."

It was decided; Norbert would be sent away, along with any dirt the Malfoys had on us.

But the next morning, Ron was forced to go to the hospital wing, his hand much too swollen to be concealed. When we visited him, he muttered darkly about how the Malfoys had come to the hospital wing, telling Madam Pomfrey that they needed to borrow one of his books. In reality, however, they had come to laugh at him.

"It's all right, Ron, it'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," soothed Hermione, but this had the opposite effect. Instead of calming Ron down, he turned pale and clammy.

"Oh, no, oh, no, I've just remembered! Charlie's letter was in the book Malfoy took! They're going to know we're getting rid of Norbert…"

Madam Pomfrey came over, seeing Ron's sudden panic, and shooed us out before we could say more.

Saturday night came, and since Ron was still in the hospital wing, it would be me, Hermione, Harry, and Norbert.

Hagrid had Norbert in a cage already when we got to his hut. Inside it were lots of rats, some brandy, and what looked like the remnants of a teddy bear.

After tears and Hagrid's farewell to the dragon, the three of us had to drag the crate under the Invisibility Cloak—but Norbert was _heavy. _I almost groaned at the thought of climbing up the Astronomy tower with Norbert dragging us down.

Somehow, though, we managed. At 11:45PM, we were at the base of the stairs, but before we could continue, we saw a lantern coming down at us. Shrinking back, we watched a seething Professor McGonagall escort Lizzie and Draco down the stairs by the ears.

"Detention!" she shrieked. "And fifty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you—"

"You don't understand, Professor, Harry Potter's coming!" exclaimed Lizzie.

"Yeah, and he's got a dragon!" Draco added, but their pleads only made Professor McGonagall angrier.

We watched as they disappeared around the corner, Hermione whispering, "The Malfoys have detention! Oh, I could sing!"

"Don't," warned Harry.

We got to the top of the steps just as four broomsticks swerved down from the sky. Charlie's friends were spirited; and thorough in thinking this through. They brought a harness for Norbert so he wouldn't thrash around, and once he was safe and sound, the four friends flew off until Norbert was completely gone.

Our troubles seemed to be over—my shoulders slumped as we made our way back down the stairs.

We were all relieved now that Norbert was gone, but our giddiness made us forget… the Invisibility Cloak was still at the top of the Tower.

And we only remembered when Filch appeared at the base of the stairs, sneering, "Well, well, well… we _are _in trouble."

...

"I would never have believed it—from any of you. Mr. Filch says that you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves._" Her voice was so stern, her lips so thin, that I was sure Professor McGonagall might just explode with fury.

This was the first time Hermione hadn't jumped on a question. My lips parted, but no sound came out except a small squeak. Harry's head was down, his eyes closed.

Behind us, Draco and Lizzie were seated in chairs. Lizzie looked rather pleased with herself even though the fifty points and detention were not forgotten. Draco was avoiding my eyes like usual.

"I'm disgusted," Professor McGonagall finally said. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger and Miss Skylar, I thought had more sense. And you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All five of you will receive detentions—yes, Malfoys, you will still have them. Nothing, absolutely _nothing _gives a student the right to walk around the school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous—and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"_Fifty?!_" gasped Harry, staring at Professor McGonagall with wide eyes.

"Each," she added, and I choked.

"Go back to your dormitories—all of you. I will inform you of when your detentions will be served."

We did as we were told. Once we were back in our dormitories, Hermione and I couldn't stop crying. We sat upright in our beds for the rest of the night, staring at each other miserably, wondering what the morning would bring.

The morning brought fresh waves of guilt.

All three of us were shunned by all other Gryffindors except the Weasleys.

Actually, Percy was avoiding us, too. Only Fred, George, and Ron were still friendly, but I figured that out of all of us, Harry was had the hardest time because everyone knew his name.

Any hopes of us winning the House Cup had vanished. When people had first seen the hourglasses on the wall that morning, they'd thought there'd been a mistake. When news spread around, though, everyone stared at the five of us—including Draco and Lizzie, though they didn't lose fifty points each for Slytherin, a fact that Hermione, Harry, and I found unfair.

Harry had actually gone to Oliver Wood to resign as Seeker on the house team, much to my dismay. Luckily, though, Wood wouldn't allow him to—he didn't care what Harry had done, as long as they won the Quidditch Cup. Maybe then Gryffindor would forgive us for losing 150 points in one round…

So Oliver didn't ignore us, either, a small comfort.

One morning, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Lizzie, and I all found ourselves with the same slip of paper:

Your detention will take place tonight at eleven o' clock. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.  
>Professor M. McGonagall<p>

None of us said a word. We just stared helplessly at the note, wondering what the night would have in store for us.

At 11, we did as we were told. Filch escorted us, ranting about the old punishments ("Oh, yes, hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me… It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out, they'd hang you from your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've still got the chains in my office…") We followed him towards Hagrid's hut, and Harry's and my faces lit up as we heard him shout, "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Filch saw our relieved looks and muttered evilly, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again. It's into the forest you're going, and I'm much mistaken if you'll even come out in one piece, the job you'll have to do…"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he asked with suspicion. "We can't go in there at night—there's all sorts of things in there—werewolves, I heard."

"That's your problem," Filch said, his voice carrying a light tune in it. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Fang, Hagrid's enormous boarhound, trotted up to us, Hagrid behind him. Scowling, he said, "Abou' time. I bin waitin' for half an hour already. All right, Harry? Hermione? Belle?"

"I wouldn't be too friendly with them, Hagrid," snarled Filch. "They're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" growled Hagrid. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? Not your place to do that. You've done your bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," Filch said breezily, as if the prospect of dead students were a casual topic. Then he showed his colors as he added, "For what's left of them."

He turned and walked away, a spring in his step.

Draco and Lizzie faced the forest and blanched. Glancing at each other, though, they realized they were acting cowardly, and they regained their normal sardonic look.

"Right then," began Hagrid, making sure we were listening. "Listen carefully, cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here for a moment."

The five of us walked over to where he was gesturing. Our gaze dropped to the ground where Hagrid was pointing, and I could see a silvery, viscous liquid at our feet.

"Look there. See that shining stuff on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" asked Draco, attempting to sound only mildly concerned.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," Hagrid answered. "An' keep ter the path. Right now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in different directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," Draco said immediately, glancing at Fang's teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," responded Hagrid. "So me, Hermione, and Malfoy will go one way, and Harry, Belle, Malfoy, and Fang will go the other."

"Which Malfoy?" Lizzie and Draco asked in the same bored tone. Suddenly, I could see why they were twins.

"Lizzie, you come with me. Draco, you go with Belle and Harry.

"Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands up an' practice now—that's it—an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll come an' find yeh. So be careful—let's go."

Harry, Draco, and I exchanged looks. I could see Draco's and Harry's looks of disgust at being paired up with one another, but they didn't say anything as we entered the forest.

The three of us followed the path on the right, the one with less unicorn blood. The forest was pitch-black except for the lantern I held in my hand. Fang led the way, sniffing the ground, being careful not to touch the unicorn blood. We did the same and followed the faint trail—it was barely visible even when I bent down to find it.

I didn't like the feeling the forest gave me—it was of mystery and strange happenings. I was afraid, but I was determined not to let it show. There was a reason I was in Gryffindor.

Draco was ahead of us while Harry and I kept close together. But Draco almost got too far ahead for me to see him, and I had to raise my voice and call his name before he stopped and allowed us to catch up to him.

I found it odd that he still wouldn't look at me.

Finally, I'd had enough.

Stamping my foot in frustration, I asked, "What's your deal, Draco? Why are you avoiding me all of a sudden? Are you mad at me or something?"

He cast a side glance at me and shook his head, but I got no further response.

Furious, I stopped walking. "I'm not moving another inch until you tell me what's got your wand in a knot."

Draco sighed. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are _you _doing this?" I retorted evenly.

It seemed he was on the verge of smiling despite the fact that we were in the Forbidden Forest. But that hint of a smile faded as he shook his head and mumbled something.

"What?" I asked, and Harry repeated quietly, "I think he said, 'Because you hate me.'"

"What?!" I repeated, gaping at him. "Draco, where did you get _that?!"_

"From the Quidditch match," he said, frowning. "You said you didn't like me anymore because I was a humongous jerk."

His gray eyes looked into mine for the first time in weeks.

But then, I actually began to laugh. It didn't help that Draco and Harry were wearing identical looks of puzzlement, both of them stupefied.

When I regained control of myself, I said in between giggles, "Draco, I don't hate you!"

"But you said you did!"

"No! I said that I liked you better when you weren't hexing people—that doesn't mean I hate you! I still like you, you know. Blimey, Draco, was that it?" I began laughing again, moving forward. Behind me, Harry and Draco exchanged looks, but Draco seemed cheerier after that.

We marched through the black trees for another half hour, scanning the sky for sparks every now and then. But nothing was there except for clear empty sky with white stars.

Suddenly, Harry outstretched his arm, preventing me from walking any farther. Silently, he moved his arm and pointed ahead of us.

There was something long and white on the ground—it was a unicorn, and it was dead. Its legs were twisted at a funny angle; they were broken. Silver blood leaked drenched its mane, and its eyes were closed, its single horn sparkling.

We didn't get any farther than three steps before a slithering emitted from the trees to our left. Harry, Draco, and I stood, transfixed, as a figure in black emerged and knelt over the unicorn. My hand flew up to my throat as it leaned and began to drink the unicorn's blood.

Fang barked madly and bolted. Draco, Harry, and I couldn't move for terror, and the black figure turned towards us—there was silver down its front.

Slowly, we backed away, but we weren't able to go anywhere before Harry yelped in pain and clutched at his scar, kneeling in the leaves.

"Harry?!" I exclaimed. The black hooded being was coming towards him.

Rushing up in front of Harry, I shouted, "Leave us alone!" straight in the creature's face. I spat at him for good measure.

"Belle!" screamed Draco as it reached out a hand to grab me. I didn't move, though. Harry and Draco were behind me, and the monster would have to kill me first to get to them.

But suddenly there was the sound of pounding hooves. I looked up to see something leap over me towards the black monster. The beast flew through the air, leaving us alone with our rescuer in the clearing.

For a moment, it was silent. But then, the thing that saved us turned.

It was a centaur—I'd read about them with Hermione. From the waist down, he was a palomino, and from the waist up, his face was filled with concern, his eyes gazing at each of us. He had white-blond hair that would've been brighter had we not been in the forest.

"Are you all right?" it asked, gazing at Harry in particular.

"Yes—thank you—what _was _that?" questioned Harry.

The centaur appraised him. "You are the Potter boy. You had better get back quickly."

"I'll let them know where we are," I murmured. Then I used two spells—one to send up the green sparks, and then another for the red. Just in case, I did each spell twice.

"Harry Potter," the centaur repeated. "My name is Firenze… but I must ask if I can speak to you alone."

Harry gave me a nervous look, and I nodded. Something told me centaurs told truth, not lies. Still, there was something about them that I thought strange…

Firenze took Harry to the opposite side of the clearing, leaving me and Draco alone. I looked at him to see if he was still avoiding me—he wasn't.

Finally, he said, "That was really brave."

"What was?"

"Standing up to that… _thing!_" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "I guess I can see why you weren't in Slytherin." He said that last with a bit of regret—I could hear it.

Sighing, I mumbled lowly, "I think it _wanted _to put me in Slytherin."

"It did?" he asked. "Then why are you in Gryffindor?"

"Well, it asked me, 'My dear, what would you make of Slytherin?' And I was surprised, I didn't think that would be my house. But then the Sorting Hat laughed and said, 'Surprised by that, eh? Well, of course, I see perfectly now. Your house shall be Gryffindor!' And of course, it shouted that last word to the Hall."

Draco stared at me and said, "Bummer. Well, now I can see why you're there."

"Yeah, I… I guess so," I replied distantly. I was remembering the welcome feast… Then I remembered how Lizzie reacted whenever I'd talk to her brother. "On a different note, does your sister hate me or something?"

"Not really. I mean, she doesn't _hate _you, but she doesn't necessarily like you, either. She's indifferent," he responded carefully. But then he laughed once and added, "No, if there are two people she hates from Gryffindor Tower, it's Fred and George Weasley."

"Fred and George?" I asked. "Why? Everyone likes them."

"Yeah, well, not her," he replied, smirking a little. "Ever since she insulted them after the welcome feast, the twins have been trying to get back at her. They've set up _loads _of pranks for her, but Lizzie knows them all. She's able to avoid every single one—I don't know if there's a single prank that can take her. What I'm worried about is when they realize she's a hopeless case, and when they realize that _I'm _not."

I couldn't help it—I laughed with that last. My hand flew up to my mouth to stop the sound, but it didn't work. A small smile was on Draco's face; suddenly I heard rustling leaves.

Hagrid, Hermione, and Lizzie burst out of the trees, Hagrid with his crossbow and Lizzie looking bored… as always. But when she saw me laughing and standing with Draco, she scowled and tossed her hair.

"All right, you guys?" Hermione asked.

I nodded. "We are now. Couldn't say the same five minutes ago."

"Why?" queried Lizzie uninterestedly.

Harry returned with Firenze. Whatever the centaur said to my friend must've been big news, because Harry was pale, his electric green eyes widened.

The three of us exchanged looks, and Harry shook his head ever so slightly. Then he lied, "We thought we heard something, but it was Firenze, so we're all right."

"Oh, hullo, Firenze!" exclaimed Hagrid, noticing him for the first time.

Firenze nodded in greeting and then said, "The unicorn you are searching for is over there," he pointed to the white body on the ground. "And this is where I leave you, Harry Potter. You are safe now. Good luck… the planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He trotted off before any of us could say another word.

...

Back in the common room, Harry forced me and Hermione to wait while he roused Ron. He said that he had important news that he wanted to tell us—but he wouldn't say anything until all of us were there.

Once the boys tromped back downstairs, he began lowly, "Belle, you know when I was talking to Firenze?"

I nodded, beckoning for him to go on.

"Well, Firenze told me that to slay a unicorn is a terrible thing. And when something drinks its blood—like the black figure we saw—they will live a cursed, half-life that will keep you alive even if you're about to die. He asked me if I knew anybody that would do that, and I knew who he was talking about," he said grimly.

I gasped. "It _can't _be You-Know-Who?!"

Ron and Hermione gaped wordlessly at him.

Harry nodded again and resumed. "Well, Firenze also told me that the Sorcerer's Stone inside the castle can help Voldemort gain a body of his own! So now we know that Snape doesn't want the Stone for himself, he wants it for Voldemort, who's waiting in the forest…"

"Stop saying the name!" Ron hissed, terrified.

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so, because he said that other centaurs knew that this was going to happen, they know that Voldemort will come back… The others think that Voldemort should've just killed me…"

"Harry!" I scolded. "You shouldn't think like that. I'm not going to spit in his face just so you can mope about it later!"

Ron stared at me, blanching. "You _spat _at You-Know-Who?!"

"Well?!" I exclaimed. "He was threatening my friends! I'm not going to stand it! If he wants Harry or Draco or any of you, he'll have to get through me first!"

Harry gazed at me with a newfound respect. I rather liked it.

But then that somber gloom returned, and he murmured, "And the other day, I heard Quirrell pleading with Snape… Snape managed to get the information he needed to get past Quirrell's obstacle… so the only thing guarding the Stone now that Snape can't get through is Fluffy."

We exchanged looks, and I sighed, "Should we visit Hagrid in the morning?"

"No," Hermione replied. "Two days away are exams… I'm studying as much as I can. Good night."

We dispatched into our separate dormitories, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.


	6. Chapter 6

Exams came and went, and both Hermione and I achieved monstrous loads of studying.

However, the exams weren't as hard as we'd been prepared to take them. With a pleasant jolt of surprise, I found that I knew all the answers on the exams except for a couple—though Hermione, of course, was scribbling down extra things like nobody's business. To my right, Harry and Ron were anxiously pausing every now and then, attempting to remember something important they'd forgotten.

Charms and Transfiguration were practical exams. Flitwick called us in one-by-one to perform certain spells. Professor Flitwick clapped at my levitating spell—thanks to Ron, I had managed to perfect it. Transfiguration we had to turn mice into snuffboxes… points would be given or taken away depending on if the box was pretty or if it had whiskers. Luckily, mine didn't have any mice remnants on it, and I was able to produce a pink flower, which almost made Professor McGonagall smile. That was nothing, however, compared to Hermione's, who managed to embroider hers with golden swirls and scarlet polka-dots.

In Potions, Snape sneered at nearly all our potions except for Draco's, Lizzie's, mine, and Hermione's. He probably would've snarled at Hermione's if she hadn't gotten it exactly right. Poor Neville—he was to my left and more than once whimpered in distress. Surprising me and Hermione, Professor Snape actually reported, "Looks like there will only be four O's in this class…"

Professor Quirrell didn't really post a challenge on our exams as he tested us on certain jinxes—including the one Draco had used on Neville beforehand when he was forced to bunny-hop up to the common room. Naturally, this was rather easy, seeing as Hermione, Harry, Ron and I had been practicing these jinxes on each other the previous night.

Astronomy we had to chart Jupiter and its sixteen moons. Herbology we had to decipher which plant was which and what it did in Greenhouse 1.

And lastly was History of Magic, where we had to write down the names of strange and awkward wizards who invented loads of even stranger things. Once Professor Binns told us to put our quills down, the classroom erupted into cheers.

Grinning ear-to-ear, Ron quickly shut Hermione down when she began talking about the questions that she _may _have gotten wrong, and extra things she needn't have learnt. Harry and I were grateful for that—I had a writer's cramp, and Harry kept throwing his hand up to his scar. I wondered what was hurting him so much…

Flopping under a tree by the lake, I watched Fred, George, and Lee Jordan mess with the giant squid, tickling its tentacles.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, his arms behind his head. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

"I wish I knew what this _means!_" Harry retorted, rubbing his forehead. "My scar keeps hurting—it's happened before, but never so often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested at once.

"I'm not ill," Harry replied, exasperated. "I think it's a warning… it means dangers coming."

Frowning, I asked, "Why should it?"

I received a shrug in response, but Ron didn't seem troubled at all. On the contrary, while gazing at the clouds, he said, "Harry, relax, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Hermione and I grinned, seeing how sensible Ron was actually being. We lay down on the ground and joined him in gazing at the clouds.

Harry, however, wasn't convinced. "I feel like I've forgotten something," he kept saying. "Like I've overlooked something…"

"Harry, come on!" I exclaimed, arching back to look at him. "Nothing's going to happen!"

Hermione nodded. "That happened to me last night too. I woke up in the middle of the night, panicking because I thought I'd forgotten to study for Transfiguration. It took me a half hour to realize that we'd already done that one."

"Yeah, great timing," I muttered sourly. "Woke the rest of us up with your, 'Oh, no, oh, no… I forgot!'"

She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

We stayed this way for another five minutes, calm and relaxed… or Ron, Hermione and I were. Harry was still staring off into space, frowning at whatever it was he'd forgotten.

But suddenly, he jumped to his feet. "Of course!"

He started off, Ron calling, "Where are you going?" We scrambled up from our comfortable positions to chase Harry as he responded, "I've just thought of something. We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" asked Hermione breathlessly, running to catch up to Harry's speedy strides.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon egg, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against the wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?" Harry looked positively furious with himself, his pace quickening as he spoke.

"What are you _talking _about, mate?" Ron asked, shocked.

When we arrived at Hagrid's cabin, Harry banged on the door hurriedly. After Hagrid answered, we found that he was shelling peas into a large bowl. He was cheerful as he asked, "Hullo! Finished your exams? Got time for a drink?"

Ron, who was panting from running to keep up with Harry, said, "Yes, please," but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry, Hagrid. I've got to ask you something, though. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"I dunno," Hagrid said casually, his smile still there, but fading as he tried to remember. "He wouldn't take his cloak off, so I never saw his face."

What Harry was getting at finally hit me—the stranger in the pub… could it possibly have been Snape?!

"It's not unusual," Hagrid continued, shelling the peas. "Yeh get a lot a' funny folk in the Hog's Head—that's the pub down in the village. Might've been a dragon dealer, mightn't he? I never saw his face, like I said, he kept his hood up."

Harry's eyes widened as he cleared his throat. He struggled to keep his voice steady as he asked, "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up, yeah," Hagrid said, frowning as he recalled what he'd forgotten. "Yeah… he asked a bit about the sort of creatures I looked after, so I told him, an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon. Then, I can't remember too well cause he kept buyin' me drinks…" Here, Harry and I exchanged panicky looks, "Let's see, then he said he had the dragon egg and we could play cards fer it if I wanted. But he had to be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home. So I told him after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…"  
>His fists turning white as he clenched them, asked Harry, "Did he… did he seem interested in Fluffy?"<p>

"Well, yeah, how many three-headed dogs do yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy is a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down. Jus' play him a bit o' music and he'll fall straight asleep!"

The four of us gasped.

Hagrid gaped with realization at what he'd just said. "I shouldn't have told you that!" he exclaimed. "Forget I said it! Hey! Where're you going?"

We had started sprinting back up to the castle.

"Professor Dumbledore?" I gasped as we ran. I was getting a stitch in my side from all that running.

"Ohh, most definitely," Harry confirmed, going even faster than me. "We've got to get to Dumbledore. Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak—it must've been easy, once he'd gotten Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if the other centaurs don't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

We stopped short. Obviously we hadn't thought about that. Harry opened his mouth and was about to speak when we heard, "What are you four doing inside?" from across the hall.

Turning, we saw Professor McGonagall coming towards us with some books in her arms. Her stern look was upon her face, like normal.

"We need to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said bravely, especially since it was Professor McGonagall she was talking to.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated. She glared at us suspiciously and asked, "Why?"

After a moment's hesitation, Harry replied, "It's sort of a secret…"

McGonagall didn't seem to like that answer. She narrowed her eyes at us and answered, "Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's _gone?!_" choked Harry. "_Now?!_"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time—"

"But this is important!"

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, a dangerous edge in her tone.

"Look," he blurted out, "Professor—it's about the Sorcerer's Stone!"

The books tumbled out of Professor McGonagall's hands. Hermione and I bent to help her pick them up, since she wasn't moving.

"How… how do you know—" she began shakily, but Harry interrupted her.

"Professor, I think—I _know_—that someone is going to try and steal it. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She gazed at him with surprise and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said at last. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor—!"

"I know what I'm talking about, Potter," she said, an air of finality about it. Hermione and I handed her books back to her. "Oh. Thank you, Granger, Skylar… Now then, I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

She walked away, but we didn't move.

"It's tonight," Harry said urgently once Professor McGonagall was out of sight. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

Hermione gasped suddenly—the four of us turned to see Professor Snape standing behind us.

"Good afternoon," he said, staring down at us with his lips curled in half a smile—or a smirk. "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this…"

Harry couldn't say anything before Snape continued; "You want to be more careful. Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor can't really afford to lose any more points, can it?"

The four of us either paled or reddened. When he was almost out of earshot, he called back, "Be warned, Potter—any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you're expelled. Good day to you."

He swept off, his black cloak whishing over the floor.

Once he was gone, Harry hissed, "Right, here's what we've got to do. Two of us have to keep an eye on Snape—Hermione, Belle, I think you two should do that."

"Why us?" we asked shrilly.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron responded. "You can pretend you're waiting for Flitwick, and Hermione can say, '_Oh, Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I've gotten question fourteen b wrong…_'"

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, but seeing as she had no other choice, she agreed to watch Snape with me.

Harry and Ron would go to the third-floor corridor to guard it, and we went our separate ways. Hermione and I trudged towards the staffroom, which was where it seemed Professor Snape had been heading.

We stayed around the corner, pretending to be talking while in reality, one of us kept a sharp lookout in one direction, the other in the opposite direction. It was a little while before Snape emerged from the staffroom, and when he saw us, he asked, "What are you two doing?"  
>"We're waiting for Professor Flitwick, I've got a question for him about our exam…" I replied casually. Or so I hoped, anyway.<p>

Snape gave me a thin-lipped smile and said, "I believe he's in his office, I'll go see if I can fetch him for you…"

He billowed off again, leaving me and Hermione staring at each other with wide eyes and pale faces.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked. "I already know that Flitwick gave me a 112% on the exam! What are we supposed to ask?"

"You got 112%?" I asked, distracted for a moment. But then, shaking my head, I replied, "I don't know!"

We stared at each other for half a second before sprinting off towards the common room. Hopefully Harry and Ron were still standing guard outside the third-floor corridor…

No sooner had we entered the common room than we heard two groans. Looking up, we saw that Harry and Ron were already there.

"How did _you _guys get side-tracked?" Ron and I asked at the same time.

"Snape went to get Flitwick," Hermione answered.

"McGonagall forced us to leave," Harry scowled.

All of us groaned.

"Now what?" I asked, throwing my hands up in the air.

"I'm going to try and get the Stone first," Harry said rashly, causing me to gasp. But when I saw his eyes, I saw his decision was resolute.

"You're mad!" Ron exclaimed.

"You can't!" Hermione said. "After what Professor McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"_SO WHAT?!_" roared Harry, causing me to jump. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort will come back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? Do you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you three say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

He glared at us defiantly, daring us to challenge him.

"You're right, Harry," Hermione finally whispered.

"I'll use the Invisibility Cloak," Harry said. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all four of us?" Ron asked.

"All—all four of us?"

"Harry, you can't possibly think that we're going to let you do this on your own!" I exclaimed, giving him a sideways look. "Remember your duel with Draco in the trophy room? I asked you to invite me next time. This is next time, yeah?"

Harry grinned, but that faded as he said, "But if you three get caught with me, you'll be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," Hermione said grimly. "Flitwick told me I'd gotten 112% on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

...

We waited for the common room to clear out so we could leave under cover of darkness. To keep suspicion at a minimum, we spread ourselves out, pretending to be sleeping or staring off into space. But then again, the Gryffindors weren't speaking to me, Hermione, and Harry, so it wasn't all that hard.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered to Harry as Lee Jordan finally up and left with a monster yawn.

Harry did that and then stopped. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "How do we use music to calm Fluffy down?"

"I can sing," I suggested timidly. "Hope he likes Phantom of the Opera…"

Harry smiled and nodded. But then he said, "We'd better put the Cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us. If Filch spots one of our feet wandering off on its own—"

"What are you doing?" said someone from the corner of the common room. My smile faded as I watched Neville rise from one of the chairs in the corner—it had been enveloped in darkness, which was why we hadn't seen him before.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," Harry reassured him, stopping short from swishing the Cloak around me and Hermione.

"You're going out again."

"No, no, no," Hermione said gently. "No we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

"You can't go out!" Neville exclaimed. "You'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand, Neville," explained Harry. "This is really important."

"I won't let you do it! I'll—I'll fight you!" he exclaimed, holding his fists up, but looking extremely nervous.

"Neville!" shouted Ron. Then, lowering his voice unless other people come down, he hissed, "Get away from that hole and don't be an idiot—"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" Neville retorted. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to _us,_" Ron cleared up, rolling his eyes. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

Neville dropped his toad. The toad hopped out of sight, but for once, his owner wasn't paying attention. His fists were still up, but his face was fearful. "Go on, then, try to hit me!"

"Hermione, please do something," Ron pleaded.

Hermione sighed and said sadly, "Neville, I'm really, really sorry about this. _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Neville went rigid as a board. He collapsed onto the ground, his body frozen.

"What've you done to him?" whispered Harry.

"It's the full-body bind," Hermione whispered, watching his eyes, which were following us. "Oh, Neville, I'm so, so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," Harry said.

"You'll understand later, Neville," added Ron.

"We won't get caught, Neville," I said, sounding more confident than I felt. "Promise."

He watched us miserably as we exited the portrait hole, the Invisibility Cloak hiding us from sight.

I trusted Harry and Ron to guide us as I looked down at our feet. We had to be completely sure that they wouldn't be revealed at all, or someone would see it.

Up until we reached the staircase to the third floor, the coast had been clear. But as we proceeded, there was a ghost blocking our way. Of course; _Peeves…_

Even though we had not moved since we saw him, he started and asked, "Who's there? Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

My eyes widened as I glanced at Harry. He gave me a crooked grin I hadn't seen before and put his finger to his lips. Then he said in a croaky, raspy voice, "Peeves… the Bloody Baron has his own reason to be invisible."

I grinned at him as Peeves practically toppled out of the air. Harry returned it as Peeves bowed multiple times, stammering, "So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir. My mistake—my mistake—I didn't see you, of course I didn't, you're invisible—forgive old Peevsie his joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," Harry murmured, taking care to croak in the hoarse way he had before. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," Peeves said, finally rising from his bow. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

Once he was gone, Ron whispered, "_Brilliant, _Harry!" At the same time, I exclaimed quietly, "That was amazing, Harry!"

He gave me that same crooked smile and continued on. After scooting up the staircase, we found ourselves by the third-floor corridor, and the door towards it was already open.

"There you are," Harry said sadly, shaking his head. "Snape's already got past Fluffy." Turning to us, he said, "If you want to go back, I won't blame you. You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"We're coming with you," Hermione added.

I had the last word, which was, "Yeah, right—we're just getting to the good stuff!"

Giving us grateful nods, Harry gently pushed the door open. Immediately, a low growl emitted. I glanced in nervously and saw the beast's eyes were closed, and that there was a harp to the side of the room, still playing faintly.

Motioning us inside, I waited for the other three to enter before closing the door. As soon as I did that, however, the harp stopped playing and Fluffy snorted. We stood, frozen, as it yawned and almost woke up, but then I remembered that I was going to sing to it.

As the dog continued snoring heavily, Harry giving me a thumbs-up. I nodded and listened to Harry, Hermione, and Ron converse quietly.

"Do you want to go first, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"No, I don't!" she responded shrilly. The dog snorted at her tone and she instantly clapped her hand over her mouth, shaking her head fiercely.

Murmured Harry, "Here, I'll go first. Belle, I think you'd better go last since you've got the dog preoccupied. I'll let you know if it's safe."

Before anyone could say another word, Harry jumped down the trapdoor. I was so worried I stopped singing for a moment before remembering—the dog! But it fell back into its deep slumber the moment I resumed.

From below, I heard, "It's okay! It's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron went next, Hermione afterwards. Once I heard the _FLUMP _signaling Hermione was safe, I continued singing until the moment I jumped down the trapdoor.

I fell through a long, lightless pit. But once I landed on something soft like Harry had promised, I knew something was very wrong.

Harry and Ron were already struggling as strange branches crept over them. They gave me wide eyes to try and get me to run, but before I could decipher their warnings, the plant had clasped around my legs, rendering me helpless.

I pulled my wand out of my pocket and shrieked, "What is this?!"

"Stop moving! I know what this is—it's Devil's Snare!" answered Hermione.

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snapped Ron, thrashing around to keep the vines from curling around his arms.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" she screamed, closing her eyes and racking her brains. She was quite still as the Devil's Snare enveloped itself around her body—and suddenly, she was dragged under.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron shouted, struggling harder.

"Don't move!" I heard Hermione shout from somewhere below. "I'm fine! Just don't struggle or it'll only kill you faster."

"Kill us faster?!" Ron exclaimed in disbelief. "Oh, _now _I can relax!"

Smiling a little at his behavior, I said, "Oh, Ron, just trust her! There's a reason Hermione got such great exam papers!" As I said this, I felt the plant push me down, eventually dropping me onto a stone floor next to Hermione's legs.

"Belle!" screamed Harry and Ron.

Rolling my eyes, I said, "You guys! Trust us! Just stay still!"

I saw a glob of branches come down towards us; when I wondered just what it was doing, it spat Harry out at our feet, his glasses falling off his head. He had to grope around for a minute before locating them.

"AHH! HARRY!" Ron shrieked. Suddenly, his voice was cut off. The vines must have coiled around Ron's throat or mouth.

"He's not relaxing, is he?!" asked Hermione anxiously. Harry and I shook our heads as she murmured to herself, "Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare, it's deadly fun… but… will sulk in the sun! That's it!"

She pointed her wand at the plant above and shouted, "Lumos Solem!"

An arc of sunlight erupted from her wand, causing the Devil's Snare to recoil and drop Ron rather painfully onto the ground. The three of us rushed towards him as he was still quite disoriented. He dusted himself off, however, and said, "Whew! Lucky we didn't panic!"

I restrained from my sarcastic remark as Harry replied, "Lucky Hermione pays attention in Herbology. Let's go."

He made his way down the tunnel to our right, and we followed. It was a dark and ominous corridor that gave me a bad feeling. Hermione and I huddled together—the tunnel was not warm, either.

Finally, there was a soft rustling. A while passed before Harry and the others could hear it, but once they did, Ron asked, "Can you hear something?"

We all nodded.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know…" responded Harry slowly. "Sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead—I can see something moving," Ron said, squinting.

No sooner had Ron said this than the passageway opened up, revealing a large room with nothing inside except for bunches of glittering objects flying above our heads. Across the room, there was a large wooden door.

But it was locked—not even _Alohomora _worked.

"Now what?" sighed Ron, throwing his hands in the air.

"These birds… they can't be here just for decoration," Hermione said.

I laughed. "You thought they were birds? No, they're keys." I glanced up at them and saw so many different colors, shapes, sizes, and shines on each of the keys that I couldn't help but wonder where the Professors found them all.

"So that must mean…" murmured Harry, putting two-and-two together. "Yes! Look—broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to that door!"

"But there are hundreds of keys!" Hermione squealed.

Ron took a good long look at the lock on the door. Finishing his analysis, he announced, "We're looking for a big, old-fashioned key. Silver, like the handle—and if Snape's already been down here, it's probably beat up."

"There," I said, pointing way up. I spotted a key fluttering as if it were a tremendous struggle… not to mention that it was the exact same silver as the door's lock.

Harry smiled. "Let's go."

At once, we grabbed our broomsticks and shot off… but then things got difficult. The keys pelted themselves towards us, giving us nasty cuts. Meanwhile, as we kept trying to grab at the keys, they would scamper out of our hands, leaving us grabbing at empty air.

But oh, it was good to fly again! I hadn't been on a broomstick in a solid year and a half since my cousin hadn't been able to visit me. It was the first time I'd been able to get some solid practice in, and Harry and I were able to duck and roll better than the other two when it came to savage key strikes.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called. He was hot on the key's trail, and I was above him just in case the key decided to fly higher. "Ron, you come at it from the left—Belle from above—Hermione from below to stop it from going down… GO!"

We obeyed Harry's strategy, and no sooner had the key realized it couldn't escape, Harry grabbed it. At once, the other keys ceased attacking us.

After dismounting our broomsticks, we leaned them against the wall where we'd found them, and Harry fitted the key into the lock. He opened the door and walked in.

This time, there was no passageway—there was simply another large room. It was not empty, though. White and black marble statues were placed across the room in a familiar formation. We walked past the black and started towards the white figures, but before we could get to the door past the white statues, they whipped out swords and blocked the pathway to get there.

"It's a chess set…" I whispered, gazing around at the white and black checkered floor.

"Now what do we do?" Harry asked.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" answered Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

"How?" implored Hermione, a quiver in her voice.

"I think… We're going to have to be chessmen."

"All right!" I exclaimed, taking the spot of a castle. The black statue of the actual castle scooted off the board, leaving me in its place. "Come on!"

Harry and Hermione glanced nervously at Ron, who said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but none of you are very good at chess—well, Belle is all right, I guess, but—"

"We're not offended," Harry interrupted. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle. And as for me… well, I'll be a knight."

At once, the other three black pieces dragged themselves off the board, where they stood next to my castle at the side of the playing area. They were faced to watch us play, which was bizarre.

"White always plays first in chess…" mumbled Ron. "Yes, look."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Thus began a very important game. Ron directed us around the board, occasionally asking for my opinion. Harry and Hermione didn't understand wizard's chess, so it was mainly Ron commanding us to a certain spot. A few times, I had to remind him that Harry, Hermione or even Ron himself was in danger, and he managed to correct his mistake just in time.

Our first nasty shock came when Ron was forced to sacrifice the other knight. The white queen leapt forward silently, wielding her sword and slashing the black statue to bits.

Pale, Ron muttered, "Had to let that happen… leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on…"

The game went on for a while. Though Ron had been forced to make many sacrifices, it always paid off.

But soon there was a point where even Ron was stumped. He glanced around the board—other than two of our pawns, the other bishop, and our king, we were the only ones left on the board. The white side, however, had their queen, one pawn, one knight, and their king… Even though they had fewer players, they had better pieces, and strategically, their places were better than ours.

The white queen turned to face Ron, who set his jaw resolutely. Before I could ask what he was planning on doing, he said stoutly, "Yes… it's the only way. I've got to be taken."

A chorus of, "NO!" echoed around the room.

Ron turned on us and exclaimed, "That's chess! You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me—that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But—"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron—"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

Harry, Hermione, and I exchanged looks. Ron was right—his way was the only way, or no way at all.

"Ready? Here I go, now—don't hang around once you've won."

Ron was pale and sweating as he moved forward one step. The three of us watched, biting our lips and clenching our fists as he stared defiantly at the white queen.

With blinding speed, she dashed towards him and knocked him out with her stone arm; Ron went limp and fell to the ground.

We stared at his broken form for a minute until I regained my breath back to say, "Go on, Harry… Three spaces to your left."

He swallowed and obeyed. Then, turning to face their king, he shouted, "CHECKMATE!"

The white king dropped his crown at Harry's feet.

We'd won.

Sure that the white chess pieces wouldn't suddenly start moving again, we rushed towards Ron. There was a rather deep cut on his forehead, but Madam Pomfrey would be able to fix it in a heartbeat… I hoped.

Glancing at one another, Hermione finally whispered, "I'll stay with him once he wakes up. We'll send an owl to Dumbledore. Belle, Harry… I think you should go on, stop Snape while you can." Giving us a desperate look, Hermione gulped. "Oh, you guys, what if he's—"

"He'll be all right," Harry replied thickly, cutting her off. "What do you reckon is next?" he asked, watching my face.

I remembered what Hagrid had said. Counting them off on my fingers, I said, "We've had Professor Sprout's—that was the Devil's Snare. Flitwick put charms on the keys, and Professor McGonagall must've transfigured the chessmen to make them come alive. Quirrell's is probably next… then Snape's."

Harry nodded at me and murmured, "Hermione, are you sure you'll be all right?"

She nodded once swiftly and urged us onward. Harry and I darted through the now open door past the white chessmen.

Even before we approached the door, the most rancid odor protruded from whatever lay behind it. Eyes watering, Harry and I threw our robes up to our noses, plugging them for good measure, but the stink was still strong even with the precautions we had taken.

The smell didn't dampen when we entered the room. We stared at another massive troll, but this one was about twice as big and foul… in both visual and sensual ways. It already had a bloody lump on its head—it was knocked out.

We looked at each other, disgusted. Harry was the first to move, saying as he stepped over the troll's legs, "I'm glad we didn't have to fight this one. Come on, I can't breathe."

Harry waited for me as we opened the next door, both of us expecting something horrifying since this next challenge was Snape's. But when the door swung open, we saw nothing except for a desk with seven different bottles on it and a roll of parchment.

Hardly believing our luck, we entered the room. But as soon as we did, the door slammed shut behind us. Purple fire sprang up over the door we'd just entered from, and black fire over the door ahead.

Cautiously we proceeded to the parchment, where I found words scribbled on it.

"Snape's," Harry muttered, scowling. "What do we have to do?"

Picking up the letter left to us, I read:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in the line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four._

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide,_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side._

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend._

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant hold death on their insides._

_Fourth, the second left and second on the right,_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

I sighed, grinning. Harry stared at me, obviously appalled.

"This is amazing!" I exclaimed. "It's a puzzle! Some of the greatest wizards can't solve things like these—they know only brute force and harsh spells… they'd be in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" Harry asked nervously.

I made sure to return that same crooked smile he gave me while holding off Peeves. Turning back to the parchment, I replied, "Nope. Just give me a few minutes."

_The second left and second on the right are twins once you taste them though different at first sight… _I thought. That meant that those were the wines—there were three poisons. There were only two wines. And if poison was on wine's left side, then the first and fifth bottles were poison… the wine was the second and sixth.

That left the third, fourth, and seventh bottle.

_As you see clearly, all are different size; neither dwarf nor giant hold death on their insides._

The giant was the seventh in line—the smallest bottle was third in line. Neither held wine or poison.

_Second, different are those who stand at either end, but if you would move onward, neither is your friend._

So… if the giant was the seventh bottle, and it would not help me go forward… then that meant that the smallest bottle would help us go towards the Stone. If the giant did not hold poison, it'd help us go _back._

In order, the bottles were poison, wine, Stone, poison, poison, wine, escape.

Harry watched my face as I smiled. Clasping my hands together, I exclaimed, "Got it," in a sing-song voice. "The smallest bottle will bring us towards the Stone."

He picked it up and looked at its contents. His face fell. "There's only enough for one in here. Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

I pointed at the seventh bottle.

"You drink that," Harry ordered. I began to object, but he said, "No, listen, get back to Hermione and Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy—go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"Harry!" I cried, gazing into his eyes. "What if You-Know-Who's with him?!"

He gave me a rueful smile and replied, "Well, I was lucky once, wasn't I?" he pointed at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

I threw my arms around him, choking, "Harry—you… are so…"

"Stupid?" he suggested. I knew he was grinning.

"No! Brave!" I finished, gazing at him. "Harry… you're brilliant. You'll get the Stone—I know you will. Just be careful, will you? Promise me."

"Yeah…" he mumbled. "I'll try, Belle."

I could tell he wasn't optimistic, but was trying to sound like it for my sake. Looking at him again, I said, "You'll succeed, Harry. I know you will."

I kissed his forehead and grabbed the giant bottle off the end of the row. Harry watched me apprehensively, smiling a little. "Are you sure that's the right one?"

I nodded confidently. Then I raised it to my lips and drank.

A freezing rush passed through me, and I shuddered. Harry rushed to me and cried, "You weren't wrong?!"

"No—it's just cold—"

"Then go! Quickly," he ushered, "before it wears off."

"I'll see you soon, Harry."

"Same here, Belle."

I passed through the purple flames and found myself back with the troll. Pulling my robes up to my nose, I couldn't help the tears as I made my way back to Hermione and Ron, who was still unconscious.

From here on out, Harry was on his own.


	7. Chapter 7

Using a few well-chosen spells, I was able to revive Ron after another minute. Hermione helped me in doing this, but soon we wished we hadn't because he glared at us malevolently and shouted, "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO KEEP GOING!"

It took a little while before we were able to calm Ron down enough for me to tell him what Harry said. When I finished, Ron goggled at me and asked worriedly, "So Harry's taking Snape on all by himself?!"

I nodded sadly, lowering my gaze. Brave, stupid Harry Potter…

"Then there's nothing for it," replied Hermione. "We've got to get Dumbledore—he's the only one who can subdue Snape now."

Without another word, the three of us dashed across the broken and disfigured chess board and pieces. I shivered as we passed the white set—but they did not move.

Back in the flying-key room, we grabbed the broomsticks, but this time the keys did not throw themselves at us, which was a great relief. We mounted them and flew straight past Fluffy—apparently my singing was soothing because he did not wake even as we flew over him.

Flying out of the third-floor corridor, we burst through one of the open windows towards the Owlery. Once we got there, however, we found Dumbledore already there, his half-moon spectacles askew and his piercing blue eyes narrowed. Gazing at us, he only said, "Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?"

Seeing our nods and grim looks, he dashed down the stairs in the direction of the third-floor corridor. We mounted our brooms again, preparing to follow Dumbledore in aiding Harry.

When we got there, however, Dumbledore gave us firm instructions to go the hospital wing and wait for him there. Disappointed, we obeyed. But we had no other choice as we dismounted yet again and set off for the hospital wing on foot.

Once we arrived, Madam Pomfrey emerged, fussing over us immediately.

"The third-floor corridor! Of course, Professor Dumbledore told me what happened, no need to worry—my goodness, you are a right sight, the three of you! Come and lay down, I'll need to heal those cuts up—oh, especially yours, Mr. Weasley…"

She continued fussing this way for a good amount of time. We hardly paid attention, though. We were waiting for Dumbledore arrive with Harry.

A solid twenty minutes passed… surely Dumbledore could get past the obstacles surrounding the Stone?! If he couldn't, then he wouldn't be able to get past the fire—Harry had probably drank the last of the smallest bottle's potion.

Finally, Dumbledore arrived, carrying an unconscious Harry in his arms.

"_Harry!_" I screamed, Hermione and Ron bolting after me.

We approached him speedily, taking great care not to run into the Headmaster. Once Harry was placed on a bed, I could see that he'd gained quite a few more cuts and burns—_burns?!_ His skin was not pale, his lips were not blue or gray… he was alive.

I slumped in relief as I watched his chest move up and down. Something was clasped in his hand. Something rather large and red… it was glittering…

"The Stone!" I exclaimed, peering through his fingers—the thing we'd spent so much effort and time to discover and save.

Dumbledore gave me a grudging smile as he said quietly, "Yes, Harry was able to obtain it. Faster than Quirrell, luckily."

"_Quirrell?!_" we gasped at the same time. "But… we thought…"

"Professor Snape never felt inclined to steal the Sorcerer's Stone," Professor Dumbledore explained gently. "It was Quirrell that attempted to steal it. Harry, however, managed to figure out the secret of the Stone before the enemy, and was able to gain it instead."

"But… why was it Quirrell, Professor?" Hermione asked. Ron and I could both tell that she was full to bursting with questions.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Now… I shall tell you the story—so long as you don't repeat it to young Harry until he is recovered and ready to hear the tale."

And so he proceeded to tell us that Quirrell had been employed at Hogwarts just that year, and that Dumbledore had entrusted Snape to keep a close eye on him. So really, when Harry had uncovered the discussions between Snape and Quirrell—it was Snape attempting to get Quirrell to confess for being in service of You-Know-Who.

"However, Harry was correct in thinking why Quirrell wanted it," Dumbledore explained, nodding serenely. "He did indeed want it for Voldemort."

Hermione and Ron gasped as my eyes widened.

"In fact, he was with Quirrell today—he'd been with him always. It seemed that behind Quirrell's turban, Voldemort managed to latch himself onto Professor Quirrell… not unlike a leech. Voldemort himself tried to convince Harry into giving him the Stone so that he could have a body of his own… but Harry refused." There was a note of pride in that last.

"How did he defeat him?" I asked. "Did you arrive in time?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"No," he answered simply. "No, I did not. Harry managed to defeat him through means even more powerful than the dark forces… perhaps, when time comes, you shall know what they are yourself."

We nodded. Clearly, this conversation was over.

Madam Pomfrey stormed over, looking quite put out. Though she respected the Headmaster greatly, she cared for nothing more than injured students. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, but am I allowed to take care of my students now?"

"Yes, you are indeed, Poppy," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

With a satisfied nod, Madam Pomfrey gestured us towards the beds we'd been lying in. Reluctantly, I left Harry's bedside and went back to my own, but not before giving his hand a light squeeze.

I could've sworn I felt one back.

I knew he'd be all right.

...

At the insistence of Madam Pomfrey, we spent the day in the hospital wing, though we spent it sleeping, mostly. Almost every minute I was awake, I'd glance at Harry to see if he'd woken up, but he was always asleep. Madam Pomfrey had said that it might take a while for him to wake…

And apparently, she had begun gossiping to the teachers about what she'd heard Professor Dumbledore say to us this morning. The teachers had talked about it amongst themselves in hushed whispers, but still, Fred and George Weasley managed to discern exactly what they were talking about. So they spread the word to their friends, who spread it to _their _friends, when it was overheard by others…

In short, by noon that day, everyone knew what happened.

We had so many visitors it was hard to remember who came and who didn't. All the Weasleys came to visit—Percy said that though it was a reckless and stupid thing to do, he admired his little brother's efforts—"And those of his friends, of course, especially Harry's…"

All the girls and boys in our dorms came to visit, too. They wished to hear the full story, but since Madam Pomfrey didn't approve of so many visitors at once, we promised to tell them what happened later.

Even the Malfoys came—well, sort of. They stood in the doorway because Hermione and Ron were still awake and were glaring at them, even though I was smiling. Draco gave me a smile, which I returned, and Lizzie issued a curt nod.

But… was it possible… there was a slight upturn to her lips that looked like a half smile… Before I could decide whether she was mocking me or being sincere, she and her brother left.

...

The next day, Madam Pomfrey couldn't fuss over us any longer. She was forced to let us go—but not before we waited to see if Harry would come around. He didn't, though.

On the way out, we ran into Fred and George, who were trying to smuggle a toilet seat to give to Harry. No doubt it was some sort of inside joke.

When we entered the common room, it seemed everyone in Gryffindor house was waiting for us. Neville had completely forgiven us for what we'd done to him—in fact, he was cheering the loudest.

Fred and George had nicked some food from the kitchens earlier, so they shoved cakes and drinks at us, asking, "What really happened?"

Hermione, Ron, and I exchanged looks and started telling the story from when we left the common room two nights before—we spoke of what we'd been forced to do to Neville, how I had to sing to distract Fluffy the three-headed dog from eating us…

When it came to our individual parts of the tale, Hermione relayed the Devil's Snare, Ron spoke of McGonagall's Chess-set, and I divulged Snape's riddle with the poisons, wine, and mysterious drinks.

But once I finished, I could say nothing more. The next part was not our story to tell—this we told to our friends, but they didn't look disappointed. Now that they knew the gossip was true, they seemed satisfied enough.

It was amazing—the Gryffindors were suddenly treating me and Hermione and Ron like heroes despite the 150 points we'd lost earlier in the year. It was like the incident had never occurred.

Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were our friends again, too. They smiled at us in the corridors, seeming happy to see us compared to a week ago. Although most Slytherins turned their heads or scowled, I was pleased to see Draco was still being perfectly friendly with me, and that Lizzie didn't turn her nose up at me anymore. In fact, each time she saw me, she seemed on the verge of giving me a hesitant smile—but whenever I'd give her one, she'd just roll her eyes at me.

Go figure.

Since we no longer had classes, Hermione, Ron, and I spent a lot of time in the hospital wing looking after Harry. Madam Pomfrey didn't seem too annoyed, but she would never allow for us to stay longer than fifteen minutes.

Finally, on the third day, Professor Dumbledore arrived in the hospital wing. He glanced at us and smiled cheerfully. "Can you come back in perhaps a half hour? Poppy's just said he'll be ready to wake soon… and there are some things I'd like to discuss with Harry."

_Alone,_ I added mentally, but we nodded and exited from room.

Half an hour we spent in the common room, playing Exploding Snap with Fred and George, but our hearts weren't truly in it. That is, they weren't until Fred made a bet on who would win the next match.

It was some time before we realized forty minutes had passed. Shocked, the three of us rushed to the hospital wing just as Professor Dumbledore ambled out.

Seeing that Harry was sitting up and grinning, Hermione and I squealed. "Harry!" We ran towards him, Ron on our heels.

"Oh Harry, we were sure you were going to—Dumbledore was so worried—" began

Hermione, but Ron interrupted her. "The whole school's talking about it. What _really _happened?"

Harry told us everything—Dumbledore had told the truth, down to the last detail. Then he added what the Headmaster had told him just now, that the Stone was destroyed, that Quirrell couldn't touch Harry because of the protection his mother gave him when she died, that Voldemort fled, weakened terribly again, and how Harry got the Stone out of the mirror.

When he finished, Ron gaped at him, confounded. "So the Stone's gone? Flamel is just going to _die?!_"

"That's what I said," grinned Harry. "But Dumbledore thinks that—what was it?—'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," Ron said, seeming impressed.

"So what happened to you three?" Harry asked, gazing at us.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing, until Belle came back. She managed to revive Ron—"

"Took a while," I muttered.

"—and we dashed up to the Owlery, but Dumbledore was already there. All he said was, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and then he was off."

"Do you think he meant to do it?" Ron asked curiously. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well!" huffed Hermione. "If he did—I mean to say, that's terrible—you could've been killed."

"No, it isn't terrible," Harry responded thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the Mirror of Erised worked… It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could…" Harry trailed off, staring off into space, thinking about what he'd just said.

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," muttered Ron, crossing his arms. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-the-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course—you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you—but the food will be great."

Smiling, I added, "There's no way Madam Pomfrey can possibly let you stay in here while everyone else is at the feast. She'll let you out."

But at that moment, Madam Pomfrey hustled over, saying, "You've had nearly half an hour this time! OUT."

...

The next evening, I went to the hospital wing before going to the Great Hall. When I got there, Harry and Madam Pomfrey were arguing. From inside, I heard, "Fine! But I'm giving you one last check-up before you're going."

I grinned and waited for Harry to come outside. He seemed pleased to see me, and together we made our way to the Great Hall.

When we arrived, we saw the whole Hall covered in emerald and silver. Banners of serpents hung from the ceiling, and green and silver surrounded the place. Above the High Table, a large banner of a snake was raised to celebrate Slytherin's win of the house cup for seven years in a row.

Harry and I walked in together, and people actually stood up to look at him. He seemed a little unnerved by this, and I took his hand in reassurance. Pointing out Hermione and Ron, he seemed relieved as he sat down. At that moment, Professor Dumbledore stood up.

"Another year gone!" he exclaimed, smiling. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor with two hundred and sixty-two points. In third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two. Second is Ravenclaw with four hundred and twenty-six points, and Slytherin is in the lead with four hundred and seventy-two."

The Slytherin table exploded with cheers. Among the flying hats from that table, I saw Draco and Lizzie celebrating. I smiled ruefully… we were so far behind…

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin, well done, Slytherin—HOWEVER!" shouted Dumbledore over the commotion. "Recent events must be taken into account."

The Slytherin table hushed itself as everyone else leaned forward.

"First, to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of shining intellect when others were in grave peril… I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms as we all cheered—she might have just started bawling in joy.

"Second! To Mr. Ronald Weasley—" Ron turned purple, "For the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen these many years… I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Another round of cheers—we were in third now. Over all the commotion, I heard Percy shouting, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Once the hubbub died down, Dumbledore resumed. "Third! To Miss Belle Skylar—" My mouth dropped as all the Gryffindors turned to me, excited looks on their faces. "For the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

The next thing I saw was the flurry of arms as all my friends cheered, screaming in triumph. I couldn't believe it—the points I'd lost were back!

"Fourth—to Mr. Harry Potter… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

This got the loudest sounding cheer yet. I threw my arms around Harry. "Harry, you did it! You've tied us with Slytherin!" He gaped at me and counted up all the points—when he found out I was right, he grinned at me uncontrollably.

It took a solid minute for the cheers to die. Once they did, though, Dumbledore was smiling, his hand raised.

"And lastly, there are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points… to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

A bomb practically exploded, so great was the noise from the Gryffindor table. Neville disappeared entirely under a pile of arms and screaming people—even Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin.

When all the bodies were removed from my view, I could see Lizzie and Draco scowling. But at my insistent grin, Draco's look loosened up a bit. Lizzie just rolled her eyes at me.

"Which means!" Dumbledore practically screamed over all the noise, "We need a little change of decoration!"

He clapped his hands, and the emerald green transformed to scarlet. The silver melted into gold, and the serpents on the banners all became ferocious, golden lions.

"Gryffindor wins the House Cup!" Dumbledore announced, sending everyone off into excited turmoil.

Needless to say, with Harry, Hermione, and Ron by my side, the night of the end-of-the-year feast was the best night I'd ever had at Hogwarts.

...

The rest of the year was spent relaxing and having fun with our friends. Everyone forgot about exams until our results came back; Ron and Harry were pleasantly surprised with what they had achieved, and of course, Hermione got the best grades in the year.

Much too soon, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I found ourselves on the train to London, to Platform 9¾. On the way home, we were having a great time; before I felt like the train ride had even started, we were pulling into King's Cross.

The four of us unloaded our trunks and walked towards the barrier. Shouts of, "Bye, Harry!" and "See you, Potter!" rang out from all sides—there were some that were addressed to me, Hermione, and Ron, too.

Said Ron, "You must come and stay this summer—all three of you. I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," grinned Harry. "I'll need something to look forward to."

Smiling, we passed through the border.

The first thing we heard was a squeal, and then, "There he is, Mum, there he is, look!"

I saw a girl a year younger than us with flaming red-hair and freckles. Instantly I knew that this was Ron's younger sister.

"Harry Potter!" she exclaimed. "Look, Mum, I can see—"

Mrs. Weasley shushed her and came towards us. To her right stood my own parents; my mum with her silver-blonde hair and young face and my dad with his mop of brown curly hair and dimples. It appeared they'd met Mrs. Weasley already, because they joined us.

"Busy year?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Very," Harry responded, grinning. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

Turning towards my mum and dad, I said, "Mum, Dad, these are my friends, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter."

They started with that last, but addressed him normally, which Harry liked.

Once my parents knew everyone, I heard another angry, "Did you seriously think you were going to push me out of the way _again_?!"

I turned and saw Draco and Lizzie emerging together, Lizzie cracking up. Draco was scowling, but when he saw me, he grinned cockily like always. His sister replied through giggles, "But it would've been really hilarious!"

Walking up to Draco, I asked, "Next year, we'll still be friends? I'll see you then?"

He grinned. "Course! Why wouldn't we be? You should ride the train with me next year."

Smiling, I said, "Bye, Lizzie," before turning away. I could've sworn she gave me a smile, though, not just half of one this time.

"Ready, are you?" I heard a gruff, stern voice ask.

I walked back to Harry to see a large man with little neck and an enormous mustache frowning down upon him. This must've been his Muggle Uncle—behind him were his Muggle Aunt and Cousin, who looked nothing at all like Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"In a manner of speaking," his Uncle said roughly. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day."

Harry waited for a bit to speak with us, though. "See you over the summer."

"Hope you—er—have a good holiday," Hermione said hesitantly, staring after Harry's Uncle as if he were a banshee.

"Oh, I will," Harry smirked mischievously. "_They _don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…"

And, in high spirits, Harry waved us one final goodbye before trudging after his Muggle family. Glancing at Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Lizzie, I waved them farewell, following my parents out of King's Cross, glad that I would be returning in two short months.


End file.
